


Only Shadows Ahead

by Missgoldy



Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: Abduction, Action/Adventure, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, Apocalypse, Best Friends, Coping, Death, Destruction, Destruction of Earth, End of the World, F/M, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt, Love, Making Out, Memory Loss, Moving On, Multi, Mystery, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 215,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missgoldy/pseuds/Missgoldy
Summary: Doctor Blight has perfected the technology designed to enable time travel, and Linka is unwillingly dragged along for the maiden voyage. The future world she finds herself in is nothing short of terrifying, but good friends are close by. Linka will need all of her courage and resilience to help set things right and make it home again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on the FanFiction website in 2017. I'm slowly moving my stuff over here as well. I've spent the last six months tinkering with this completed fic, improving upon it and adding extra details and dialogue that I regretted not including the first time around.

_"Like this?"_

_The woman nodded, smiling fondly at her daughter standing beside her. Perched on top of a small footstool, the little girl continued earnestly stirring the rich mixture within the mixing bowl. Her head and arms barely reached the countertop but she persevered, even as dollops of cake mix fell over the side._

_"Mmm. Don't forget the side of the bowl, sweetheart."_

_The little girl frowned, blowing her hair out of her eyes as she scraped the flour into the brownie batter. "Can I lick the spoon when I'm done?"_

_"No, the raw eggs will make you sick," her mother replied as she wiped her hands on a tea towel, before tying her hair into a messy pony-tail. "But when we ice the brownies you can lick the spoon. Okay, Hannah?"_

_"All right." The little girl jumped off the stool, watching on as her mother picked up the square container and moved about the kitchen with it. "Is the oven working today, mommy?"_

_"Yes, thank God," she said over her shoulder as she placed the brownie mix onto the oven tray. She closed the door and sighed, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as the heat from the oven enveloped her face. "No, today it's the phones and internet that aren't working."_

_"Oh. That's weird," Hannah declared, before turning and striding off in the direction of her bedroom, her hair bouncing with each step she took._

_The woman laughed, leaning against the countertop and watching her daughter go. She looked around the house, smiling at the assortment of baby toys, dolls and princess accessories strewn around the living room. A makeshift tent had replaced the dining table, which was now covered in white sheets. The tent currently housed several teddy bears and a tea set, along with a barbie holiday home._

_She turned and reached for her phone, her brow creasing as she regarded the display and the 'no signal' notification that was becoming increasingly more prevalent in recent weeks. As if on cue, the lights flickered above her and she froze, holding her breath to see if the electricity would also give out, but they remained on. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that her fridge and freezer full of groceries would remain intact._

_The power outages had been happening for some time now, but the phone and internet issues were relatively recent. This unusual phenomenon was apparently occurring world-wide and experts were baffled as to the cause._

_"A glitch in the Matrix," her husband liked to joke. For her, it was no laughing manner. It was disconcerting, and made her feel uneasy._

_She crossed the living area and started packing away toys, making a mental note to put a load of washing on while the machine was still able to be utilised. She caught a glimpse of her reflection and grimaced, noting the smudges of flour across her forehead and within her hairline._

_Removing her glasses, she dusted herself off as best she could, before removing the elastic band and running her fingers through her dark tresses. Her hair fell in loose waves down to her shoulders, a fashionable yet practical bob preferred for both its practicality and the lack of styling required for time-poor mothers._

_She continued tidying, singing happily to herself until Eli's cries interrupted her. Stepping into the baby's room, she picked up the wailing infant and cooed quietly to him, bouncing him around on her shoulder as she trod barefoot into the kitchen and warmed a bottle for him._

_Dropping herself onto the leather lounge, she curled her feet underneath herself and settled the ten month old onto her lap. He sucked the bottle down hungrily, flexing his two perfectly fat little feet as Hannah joined them on the couch, tucking herself underneath her mother's free arm._

_Together they sat and watched Yo Gabba Gabba; their experience only hampered by the occasional signal drop-out and static hiss over the songs. Not that Hannah's mother minded — Yo Gabba Gabba was definitely an acquired taste._

_Reaching across for the small pile of mail, the brunette leafed through the letters until a small white envelope caught her attention. She held her breath, noting the familiar small, neat handwriting on the front - with no forwarding address on the back._

_The woman slid her thumb under the seal and tore the envelope open, before unfolding the letter contained within. She read the first few lines and her eyes widened in shock — and recognition. She grinned at the unexpected correspondence, wiping away tears as she clutched the letter to her chest._

_Rising quickly to her feet, she started making preparations: gathering nappies, bottles, drink bottles and other miscellaneous items deemed necessary for the short trip into town. They were quickly tossed into a back-pack as she glanced at her watch, checking that she had enough time._

_She did._

_Jackets were grabbed for the kids and tucked into the base of the pram. She reached for her cell phone purely out of habit, frowning as she realised that the network was still down and her husband would remain unreachable anyway. She returned it to the bench-top and scrawled a quick note, just in case he returned home early._

_"Hannah, let's go!"_

_The little girl blinked, standing as her mother gently placed Eli into the bassinet section. Dropping the back-pack over the handles, she ushered the children out into the hallway and towards the lift, chatting softly to her young charges. They soon disappeared into the city below, lost amongst the bustling throng of people._

_The cell phone sat discarded on the kitchen counter, the display unchanged. The screen flashed the "Searching for Networks" message for several moments before returning to the "No Signal" mode that had plagued cell phones across all providers lately._

_Above the counter sat a small window, looking out onto a dreary city skyline. Thick clouds were gathering, casting a grey glow over the buildings below the third story apartment._

_A storm was coming._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Blissful peace.

Serenity.

Beauty.

The sights and sounds of the rainforest were calming. Lush green and sparkling blue; intermingling with the infinite spectrum of colours present within her beloved world. They delighted her. Even after her thousand-odd years of service within this realm, the turquoise waters of Hope Island's cove still took her breath away.

For a moment Gaia felt a momentary flash of anger. A brief, disconcerting feeling: especially given the fact that spirits were meant to remain detached from human emotion. Her job was to monitor and guide, but remain detached from the nastier side of the human condition.

But it was hard, and it was getting harder.

She simply didn't understand this race. The inhabitants of Earth were driven by the tangible need to conquer. The inability to accept differences of both opinion and colour was becoming more and more noticeable as the years passed. Men and women driven by their desire for material possessions and wealth… who would tread on their own mothers in order to achieve their goal. Selfishness. Egocentricity. Weakness.

Gaia had cried, observing the damage inflicted by such _humans_ during her time as Earth's guardian.

_Emperors._

_Dictators._

_Tsars._

_Fuhrers._

The balance was so fragile.

It had always been there - those misshapen seeds that had continued to twist and grow within the hearts of those who lacked compassion and empathy. She had watched that seed take hold of some truly frightening individuals during her time here.

Gaia's patience had worn thin with the evolution of warfare. From the swords and bayonets of yesteryear to semi-automatic rifles and weapons of mass destruction. The citizen's of Earth were gifted at coming up with new and inventive ways of obliterating one another.

The elders had advised her to walk away years ago, to effectively wipe her hands of them. Humans were a lost cause, a liability.

_They are destined to destroy themselves. Stop delaying the inevitable._

But regardless of those opinions, Gaia couldn't bring herself to leave. She had five extremely valuable reasons to stay. Those reasons were quite simply the light within her darkening world and she focused all her love and positive energy into them.

_Kwame,_ with his quiet determination and innate sense of social justice. He knew first hand the complexities of greed and segregation. A natural born leader whose compassion was matched only by his kindness.

_Wheeler,_ who was once a mere boy with a temperament as combustable as his element. However he had grown into a man who demonstrated the courage and confidence needed in spades. His integrity was matched only by his sense of humour. And when he spoke, people listened…

_Linka,_ Gaia's headstrong and intellectually curious recruit. Having experienced a relatively sheltered life, the self-reflective blonde often found herself well outside the confines of her comfort zone. But her logic and deductive skills were on point and her empathy towards others was a prized trait.

_Gi,_ short on name yet big on personality. Diplomatic yet impulsive at times, her love of the water was at the forefront of her thoughts and it drove her to continue educating people. _Enlightening_ people to conserve and protect the oceans for generations to come.

_Ma-Ti,_ who had been so young but had already lived a life many adults would struggle to cope with. In Gaia's opinion, his power was also the most difficult to wield. _Heart_ had the tendency to drain the bearer but also gave unlimited access to human mind.

The flip side of the coin was the fact that in the wrong hands, _Heart_ had the capacity to allow access to thoughts meant to remain hidden. It had the ability to compromise homes, government departments. Bank vaults. But Ma-Ti was a worthy recipient. He was nothing if not kind and true. Resilient and honest to a fault.

Her five Planeteers, fighting a never-ending uphill battle. Greed and power seemed to sprout like cancer, and unfortunately the environment seemed to suffer for it. But they persevered, fixated on the greater good.

They were her children. She'd nurtured them, instilled wisdom and bred leadership. They were quite simply the light of her life. The life she led, but the life she would eventually have to leave behind. Her reluctance was palpable, but Gaia's departure from this world was long overdue.

The elders were putting their proverbial foot down. Gaia could feel herself fading, feel her connection to the earth becoming less tangible as the years went by. The elder's call was stronger now, but Gaia was resolute in the knowledge that she would fight them every step of the way. Change was coming and it was unsettling, to say the least.

Her children would need her, the five of them. There were plans afoot. Those twisted seeds that emerged in the most dangerous of individuals were currently causing unrest in someone else, someone who already displayed a frightening disregard for others. Someone whose ability to rationalise was almost non-existent.

Gaia moved through the island restlessly, her bare feet treading the sand towards the Crystal Chamber. She entered and waved her hand, watching on as the screen flicked to life and her Planeteers appeared.

They seemed to have just finished setting up a camp under the shadows of a rapidly-setting sun. Icy terrain surrounded them and they were rugged up in heavy snow-gear; their wind-swept faces showing signs of fatigue.

Dinner was underway and as per usual their nightly entertainment came in the form of Gaia's Fire Planeteer. She watched as Wheeler trudged up an embankment with the others watching on, a mischievous look on his face as he dragged a single air mattress to the top. He gave the thumbs-up sign and dropped down onto his knees, pushing the mattress forwards and beginning the descent towards camp.

Gaia smiled, observing them… their actions seemed to mirror the complex nature of their personalities.

Kwame; standing with his hands on his hips, bellowing at the American to be careful as the makeshift sled picked up speed.

Ma-Ti; roaring with laughter and encouraging his team-mate, diving out of the way as the flash of red hair hurtled past them.

Wheeler; face-planting in the snow and rolling over as the mattress hit a bank.

Gi; running and collapsing beside him, giggling and reaching for the inflatable, intent on giving it a go herself.

Linka; standing off to one side and observing them all with a familiar mixture of amusement and concern.

Gaia's will became iron-clad. Resolute. She would remain here until the Elders dragged her away forcibly, kicking and screaming.

There were plans afoot and they would need more courage and guidance then ever before. Waving her hand, the screen went blank and she turned away. She closed her eyes and sent forth positive affirmations to her children.

* * *

The lab was well equipped - with high tech processors, monitors and surveillance cameras designed to record the moment of triumph. The moment when three years of blood, sweat and tears would finally amount to something.

Barbara Blight refused to deal with possibilities. _Maybe_ was simply not part of her vocabulary. Blight dealt only with black and white: she either would succeed with her latest experiment, or she wouldn't.

The Doctor was brilliant, with an IQ of 160 and the cold, cunning and emotionless personality of those with sociopathic tendencies. At the end of the day, however, all of this was irrelevant. When she chose to put her head and heart towards something, she followed it through until she saw results.

This particular experiment was currently the bane of her existence, however. Even with MAL's analytical mind focusing on the programming side of things, it kept failing. Four times, to be exact.

For the life of her, she couldn't work out why… and the knowledge that the answer was alluding her pissed Blight off immensely.

She stood in the centre of the lab, her hands on her hips and chewing her lip thoughtfully. Quantum mechanics. Wormholes. Einstein-Rosen bridges. All fancy names for the age-old fascination with time-travel. The ultimate purpose? Moving from point 'A' to point 'B' with all particles and body parts intact and in good working order. No heads on backwards. No disappearing between dimensions, floating in limbo for the rest of eternity.

Of course, the research documented were simply theories written by men long since dead… And MAL had hacked into secret US government documents detailing the failed attempts to create wormholes. Blight had managed to pull it all together and drawn her own conclusions, but the gravitational field had remained elusive…

Elusive until Zarm had dropped some valuable equations into her lap, before being banished permanently to wherever the heck he'd come from in the first place. The equations had given her a tangible clue.

The Doctor had spent three years toiling away quietly, financed by a private corporation that looked good on paper but had connections with a certain man with a preference for safari suits. Dr Blight sniffed.

_The things we do for funding._

A monitor blinked to life and she turned, fixing her stare on the green, back-lit face looking back at her.

"I think we're ready, Doctor."

"Get your gigabytes in gear, then. Fire it up, MAL baby."

"As you wish…"

Dr Blight took a step back, placing her safety goggles over her eyes as she craned her face upwards. A telescopic lens descended from the ceiling, pointing downwards towards a round reflective surface fixed to the floor. She stepped back, well away from the device as a mechanical _whirring_ noise started up. It vibrated and hissed as it gained power, causing the metal tables to bounce and clamour with the strong vibrations.

"All signs are go, Doctor."

"Do it."

A beam of light issued from the lens, followed by a loud _crack._ The Doctor flinched, diving for cover as the shockwave caught her unprepared. The air seemed to shimmer at the drop point before fizzling out completely, leaving a smoky haze in it's wake.

"Fuck. Did it work?"

MAL disappeared from the monitor for a moment, leaving his creator sprawled beside a refrigerator and looking uncharacteristically flustered. She pushed herself to her feet, checking her reflection against the stainless steel surface.

"Doctor?"

"Well?" Blight turned and crossed her arms. She already knew the answer but wanted confirmation. "Did it work?

"It didn't hold. No connection appears to have been made."

Blight swore under her breath, slamming her fist into the steel surface. Frustration coursed through her, causing the blood vessels in her temple to throb. She could already feel a headache coming on.

"Re-calibrate the system and review the video feed," she barked, turning on her heels and stalking towards the lab entrance. "I need to consider my God-damn options."

"Yes, Doctor Blight."

MAL watched her go, knowing she would head straight for the drink cabinet in the living area. The computer program retreated from the monitor again, travelling through electrical circuits until the video mainframe was accessed. The feeds started spilling onto the screen and MAL entered playback mode.

The lights switched off in the lab as the video flickered at high speed, casting a cold glow over the room as MAL analysed the footage. It flickered throughout the night, long after Barbara Blight had passed out in bed, having consoled herself with a tall bottle of vodka.


	3. Chapter 3

"Remind me again why we took on this job?" Gi grumbled, pulling the sleeping bag up to her nose and trying to block out the howling winds buffeting the tents outside. It was barely above zero and Gi had never been so cold in her life.

"At least we are here in the high season, Gi." Linka's voice floated out from under the sleeping bag beside her. "Barrow does not even see sunlight from November to around the end of January."

"Yeah, well… you're used to the colder climates." Gi sighed, snuggling in closer to her best friend. "Besides, if our vehicle hadn't broken down, we'd be at the station by now."

"Unexpected detour," Linka replied sleepily. She yawned, blinking as Gi thrashed around once again in a vain attempt to get comfortable. "It is just for one night. Besides, I do not hear the boys complaining."

"Yeah well," Gi muttered. "Kwame and Ma-Ti never complain, and Wheeler would sleep through a brass band playing in an ice hockey arena."

"Mmm, that is true,” Linka giggled. She wriggled further forward after several moments, wrapping her arms around her friend in an attempt to share some body heat. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Sorry for being such a grumble bum."

"The research team will be here at first light," Linka said, squeezing her friend reassuringly. "And I do not mind it when you are a bumble-bum."

Gi chuckled. They lay in silence, listening to the wind as it buffeted against the material of their tents, making an irritating flapping noise. It eventually died down but Gi still remained awake, listening to Kwame's loud snoring coming from the tent beside theirs. She sighed, rolling over to face Linka.

"Do you think it's Sludge this time?"

A small torch was switched on and Linka's face suddenly lit up. Gi smiled fondly at her friend, noting her pale, almost ethereal skin, high cheekbones and soft blonde hair swept over her shoulder.

"I think it is Greedly." Linka yawned again and rubbed her face. "Only he would be _choknutyj_ enough to drill for oil without permits… and you know. Without the benefit of actually knowing what he is doing."

"That man has his chubby fingers in so many financial pies. What else could he possibly need?"

"Lifetime membership to Weight Watchers." 

The low voice issued from the tent beside theirs and Gi snorted, watching on as Linka twisted and glanced in the direction of the boys tent.

"Why are you not asleep, Yankee?"

"Foghorn Leghorn here keeps changing melody," Wheeler complained, his voice floating through the walls of the tent as the girls stifled giggles.

"He really is loud tonight," Gi said, still smiling. She heard the shuffling of bodies from next door and grinned, assuming that Kwame had rolled over. He snorted loudly, as if proving a point. "It's almost like he's snoring in rhythm."

Wheeler's muffled voice groaned with frustration. "Y'know, every time I think he's settled into a pattern, the bastard goes and changes it up on me."

The girls started giggling helplessly again.

"Oh, poor Yankee. Not much you can do about it," Linka teased, shifting and resettling herself under the covers.

"Is that a challenge?"

A heartbeat passed and they heard the sound of a zipper, followed by a rustling noise. The girls glanced at each other as a large shadow appeared outside.

Linka sat up, bundling her sleeping bag around her as she stared at the entrance to their small tent. She narrowed her eyes, pushing her fringe away from her forehead.

"Is he…? Yankee, do not even think about it," she hissed, a warning note in her voice.

The zipper to their tent slid up and a shock of dishevelled red hair appeared first, followed by a cheeky, grinning face.

"God, it's freezin' out there," Wheeler complained, dropping to his knees and crawling inside before closing the zipper behind him. "Evenin', ladies…"

His bulky frame practically filled the tent. He kicked his shoes off and unwrapped a red quilt from around his shoulders, tossing it towards the girls. It fell in an untidy pile into Linka's lap and she threw it back, an indignant look gracing her features.

"Can we help you?" Gi asked, regarding him with disbelief as he crawled forward on his hands and knees. He settled himself down between them and Gi gasped as his weight dropped onto her leg. She disengaged her limb and tilted sideways, having no choice but to make room for the brash American. "No seriously… can we help you?"

"Nah. I'm good," came his reply as he tucked his legs under the blankets and shuffled down. He settled himself back and clasped his hands under his head, grinning. "Much more comfortable in here."

"Comfortable? As opposed to what?" Gi rolled her eyes, looking up at Linka who was still sitting up, frozen and staring at Wheeler as if he'd grown a second head.

"As opposed to the jet engine I was sleeping beside. And Ma-Ti's hand kept ending up on my ass, and I sure as hell wasn't comfortable with that."

Gi snickered again. "Oh geez, Wheeler."

"No complaints if either of your hands end up on my ass tonight, though." He dropped his arms down on either side of his body, nudging both girls with his feet. "I'll be more than comfortable with that."

"Wheeler!" Linka hissed, shoving him by the shoulder as he snickered from his position between them. "Stop it!"

"Just sayin'," he said quietly, batting his eyelids. The blankets and quilts were pulled up to his chin and he smoothed the lumps out with his hands. "The invitation's there."

"Uh huh. We'll keep that in mind," Gi said, amused. She laid back against her pillow, readjusting the sleeping bags over their combined bodies. "Don't go gettin' any ideas, Pyro. This is a one time deal."

"No cuddles? No spooning?"

"Spooning? What is this _spooning_ you speak of?" Linka asked, confused as she switched the light off and lay down, doing her best to maintain some distance between her own body and Wheeler's.

"Want me to demonstrate, babe?" His voice was low and Gi knew he was smiling.

" _Nyet,_ " Linka said firmly, reaching out and swatting him across the forehead. "Behave yourself."

"Where's the fun in that?" he mumbled into Gi's pillow.

But Gi (and even Linka) knew the words didn't even need to be spoken. Sure, Wheeler was a flirt and a tease and a charmer, but she also knew that he respected them both deeply. Mutual trust had developed between all five of them over the course of the last seven years and it ran deep; even deeper than the familial bonds they held.

She heard Wheeler sigh as he turned onto his side. A loose arm was flung around Linka's waist and Gi heard her mutter something derogatory under her breath in the darkness…although she didn't push him away.

The wind had picked up again and Gi listened to it for a while, sensing the canvas buckle and sway under the steady draught outside. She nestled against Wheeler's back for warmth, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Her own breathing finally evened out and her eyes closed eventually, until she was all but oblivious to the elements rising in intensity beyond the sanctuary of their little canvas shelter.

* * *

Daylight seeped through the tent as Gi stirred. She heard quiet movements outside and she opened her eyes, stretching the kinks out of her body. Instinct told her that Kwame was awake and packing up the camp.

_Always an early riser._

Gi rolled onto her side and gently disengaged herself from the mass of limbs within the cramped tent. Wheeler was still sleeping soundly beside her and Gi wasn't surprised to see Linka curled up quite comfortably against Wheeler's chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Unable to help herself, she tucked the sleeping bags and blanket around them; careful not to wake them.

She shook her head, a wistful smile crossing her lips as she crawled towards the entrance. She unzipped the canvas flaps and stepped out, spotting Kwame immediately beside their immobile vehicle. He waved as she straightened and closed up the canvas again.

"Morning. Want some tea?"

She nodded, crossing her arms across her chest to ward of the cold chill in the air. "Thanks. Heard from the AST?"

"They're sending someone to pick us up within the hour," Kwame said. "Have you seen Wheeler? He wasn't in our…"

Gi jacked her thumb over her shoulder and Kwame cottoned on immediately. "Oh, okay. Ah… why?"

"It's Wheeler. You're really going to ask that question?"

He smirked but stayed quiet, aware of his friend's impulsivity… especially when it came to temperamental Russian blondes. Gi perched herself on the edge of a fallen log and glanced up as he handed her a steaming mug. She took it gratefully.

"Thanks."

Kwame nodded, leaning against the jeep and shoving his hands deep within his pockets. "This cold is unnatural."

She raised her eyebrows. "Judging by last night, it must have been playing havoc with your sinuses."

"Ooooh," Kwame groaned. Rubbing his face, he regarded her with an apologetic look. "No wonder I am so tired. Sorry. Was I that bad?"

"I think most of Alaska would have heard you," she muttered, making a face and dodging a well-aimed kitchen sponge pitched towards her head. "What's the plan for today?"

"View the surveillance videos, speak to the witnesses. Then head to the oil site. We get our facts in order before shutting it down."

"Sounds good," she said, sipping her tea. "Then home… hopefully"

Kwame grunted, kicking a clump of snow across the ground. "Mmm. How long has it been?"

"Fifteen weeks. Three days. Seven hours." Gi sighed, looking lost in thought. "I miss Hope Island."

"It has been far too long living out of a suitcase," Kwame agreed, nodding towards Ma-Ti who was climbing out of his tent. "Morning. Sleep well?"

"I've certainly slept better," Ma-Ti commented drily, shaking his head. Heading towards the kettle, he pulled another sweatshirt over his body for warmth before pouring himself a mug of tea. "Do you hear that?"

Gi paused, her ears pricking at the low rumble of an engine nearby. "Looks like our ride is on it's way."

"Good. I'm starving. Hoping they have a hot breakfast waiting for us," Ma-Ti said. "Are we packing up?"

Kwame gave the thumbs up sign, glancing in the direction of the girls tent. "Indeed. Who's waking Romeo and Juliet?"

He watched on with amusement as Ma-Ti volunteered. The Heart Planeteer stepped carefully over the guide ropes - his mug in one hand as the other hand grasped the tent pegs, pulling them one-by-one out of the ground. Pushing the centre of the canvas supports down, the structure collapsed inward on top of the unsuspecting inhabitants.

"What…" Linka's voice issued from inside, muffled but annoyed. Her hand pushed against the wall close to Ma-Ti's leg and he sprinted away with a grin, sloshing tea all over the ground. "Who did… Wheeler, get OFF me!"

Gi doubled over, sniggering into her palm as she watched the tent bulge and bounce from within. It took ten seconds of frenzied movement for Linka to find the entrance. She darted out and jumped free, nearly tripping over a rock as she glared at the others who were in various stages of laughter. "That… that is not funny."

Gi pointed in Ma-Ti's direction, more than willing to give away the culprit and she threw Ma-Ti such a look of fire and ice that he took an involuntary step back, raising his hands and apologising between fits of cackling. Linka turned and stormed off towards their prone vehicle, muttering in Russian as she reached for her suitcase.

Wheeler appeared soon after, making a much more dignified exit. He stood and stretched, grinning widely. "Mornin'."

Kwame clapped his hands, intent on spurring his motley crew to action. "Come. Let's do this."

* * *

"How were you made aware of this?"

The Alaskan State Trooper leaned over the table, pointing to an area at the top of the crumpled map.

"They thought Prudhoe Bay had sprung another leak. Closed the pipeline down and carried out repairs. It was the lead engineer who discovered that eleven extra wells had cropped up. Very crudely built. They hadn't bothered to clean up after themselves apparently. The engineer called it in and went to take a look."

"Back up for a moment. Another leak?" Linka interjected, sending a withering glance towards the trooper. She squinted, reading the name badge on his lapel. " _Trooper Cronin_ , surely BP and Exxon would be doing a better job with maintaining their equipment after the last leak?"

The officer straightened and returned Linka's glare. "They paid greatly for it, making restitution to the tune of $20 million, sweetheart."

"That is a small consolation to the local wildlife," Linka muttered, looking away as she folded her arms in annoyance. She felt Kwame's hand on her shoulder, a gesture of warning and she gritted her teeth but remained quiet.

"Have the repairs been made?"

"Didn't need to. There were no issues with the pipeline. Huge amounts of oil were present above ground but no punctures or breeches."

"Okay," Kwame said. "You said the wells are in a remote area. Can the engineer recall the location?"

"No."

Kwame frowned. "Why not?"

The Trooper moved to say something but Ma-Ti grasped the truth first. "He never returned."

"Correct," the trooper replied, meeting his gaze. "A team from the Bureau of Investigation were dispatched to investigate and they also failed to check in. They've been missing for three days now. That's when we called you."

"Do you have any leads?" Gi asked.

Trooper Cronin shook his head. He adjusted his hat and leaned against the table, eyeing the Planeteers with a wary expression. "No leads. But Prudhoe's production has decreased substantially by 30 percent. That's unexplained, and would usually indicate a major leak except there isn't one…"

"Or else the oil is being diverted," Kwame mused, thinking of the mystery wells that had appeared.

"Exactly. And our wildlife division have reported sea lions and migratory birds washing up on the coastline…"

"So whoever is siphoning the oil is doing a shitty job of it. Basically…" Wheeler chimed in. "Might be time for Alaska to invest in a primary industry other than petroleum."

The Trooper gave a mirthless smile. "Good luck getting that passed through the senate. Do you have any idea how many members of government are on Exxon's payroll?"

"Too many," Wheeler remarked. He zoned out for a moment, grabbing a donut from the desk and leaning casually against a file drawer. A pair of troopers entered the crowded office and he watched as they dumped their equipment and joined the conversation led by Kwame. The youngest officer, a cocky young man with a goatee approached Linka and pulled her aside; all smiles as he attempted to strike up some flirty dialogue.

Wheeler smirked, folding his arms as he watched the awkward exchange. The conversation was doomed from the start. He'd watched similar exchanges for many years now and knew Linka wouldn't give the trooper the time of day. Too focused on her work. Wheeler couldn't blame him for trying though.

Linka crossed her arms across her body, subconsciously demonstrating body language that screamed _go away_ at several thousand decibels. She glanced over the troopers shoulder and met Wheeler's amused gaze. He winked back at her and she broke the eye contact, smiling as she pushed her hair behind her ears.

A sniffer dog was brought in by his handler and Wheeler watched as Ma-Ti's face transformed into a wide grin. Ma-Ti dropped down to his knees, giving the german shepherd a good rub behind the ears as he spoke soothingly to the animal.

Sutchi had passed away the previous summer and Ma-Ti had had yet to find a replacement to lavish affection on. Wheeler had helpfully suggested a goldfish but that idea hadn't been very popular.

" _Bozhe moi_." A soft voice issued from beside Wheeler and he turned his head, noting that Linka had joined him. "That man was very… random."

"How so?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on Kwame who was giving them a disapproving stare for not paying attention. "Your version of random probably isn't the same as mine, babe."

"He asked if I had been brought in for thievery..."

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes, angling her face up and whispering in his ear. "Because apparently I have stolen his heart."

"Oh geez." Wheeler snorted loudly, eyeing the trooper with amusement. "That's so bad, it’s hilarious."

"It is not funny, Yankee!"

"Yeah, it is," he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her. "Christ. That's worse than my pick-up lines."

"Not by much," Linka replied with a laugh. "I would expect to hear that in a nightclub, not from professionals in a place of business."

"Bet it usually works for him, too."

"Not today," she muttered. "Ugh."

"Probably broke his heart, poor —"

She nudged him with her elbow and nodded towards Kwame who was now openly glaring at them. Wheeler tightened his grip around her neck and moved forward, dragging Linka as she stumbled along beside him.

They rejoined the group, discussing the plan of attack as they began to make preparations.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are we there yet?"

Ma-Ti rolled his eyes and addressed the driver. "Ignore him. Wheeler hasn't had his morning caffeine hit."

"Damn straight," Wheeler muttered, slinging his arm across the back of the seat and sinking down against the vinyl. It was eleven AM but the sun remained low: the snow and cloud cover giving the appearance of it being much later.

The SUV bumped and rattled along the road at a cautious rate. The road was icy and visibility was limited. Plus the journey was an uncomfortable one for the passengers. Gi's small frame was lurching around violently in her seat and at one stage she clung to Wheeler's arm in an effort to steady herself.

Ma-Ti sat in the front passenger seat, tuning out the chatter from his two team mates behind him. He propped his elbow against the window pane, gazing out at the blurry white scenery. Movement caught his eye and he froze as it came into focus; the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Stop here," Ma-Ti said harshly and the driver turned to him, frowning. A question formed on the trooper's lips but he slowed the vehicle down nonetheless. The Heart Planeteer rubbed his ring with the pad of his thumb, glancing back towards an embankment they'd just passed. "Stop. Wait here a moment, guys. I'll be right back."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Wheeler looked worried but Ma-Ti shook his head.

"It's all right, my friend. I'll be right back," he reassured the American as he unbuckled the seatbelt.

The SUV ground to a halt and Ma-Ti jumped out of the car, pulling his anorak tightly around his neck. A blast of icy air assaulted him and he gasped, shocked at the sensation of a thousand tiny needles pricking his skin at once.

Waving to the second vehicle that pulled up behind his own, he jogged over and gave a few brief words to Kwame and Linka who were peering out the windows. Ma-Ti turned and hurried up the embankment, hauling himself up and over. He disappeared from his team-mates view, treading through the thick snow towards a copse of trees just below him.

He stumbled several times but recovered himself, eyes scanning the area and finding nothing but skeletal tree limbs; twisted and reaching for sunlight that would never come.

" _Heart._ "

Ma-Ti's breath caught as he spotted it again. A large shadow appeared, ducking behind a large mound some fifty feet from where he was standing. He continued on, his chest thumping as he waded through thigh-deep snow until his foot made contact with something large and bulky.

Dropping to his knees, Ma-Ti scooped up handfuls of snow and pushed them out of the way. Red fabric became visible and he doubled his efforts until the remains of a waterproof coat were revealed.

Pushing the coat aside, he was unprepared for the frozen face hiding beneath it. Eyes open, staring towards the heavens and a discoloured purple mouth open in an eternal silent scream.

"Argh!"

Ma-Ti jumped to his feet, stumbling away and crashing into another body he wasn't expecting. He gasped as Kwame's hand steadied itself on his back. Ma-Ti leaned forward, catching his breath as he recovered from the shock.

Wheeler was a few steps behind and approached cautiously. He dropped to his knees and inspected the mound, a look of grim determination on his face.

"Jesus," he muttered. He leaned forward and carefully repositioned several frozen limbs in order to ascertain more information.

"How many?" asked Kwame.

"Maybe five or six," Wheeler replied, digging around and finding a lanyard around one of the victim's necks. He gently removed it and sat back in the snow, reading the ID tag attached to it. "Rachel Manitoff. EPA."

"How did you know they were here, Ma-Ti?" Kwame asked softly, watching as his team mate straightened and stepped away, composing his thoughts.

"She was standing over there," he said, pointing to the highest point of the embankment. "Clear as day. She was waving to me."

Wheeler stared at the Ma-Ti, his mouth hanging open in horror. His own power, much like the others was always constant. He pointed his ring and a shit-tonne of fire spat out. That was it.

But Ma-Ti's power had consistently grown and evolved over time. It seemed to have a mind of its own, developing and fostering abilities that even he would prefer not to experience.

Wheeler looked down at the mound of bodies again, swallowing nervously. He wiped away a layer of ice and found a puckered entry wound on the temple of a young man no older than himself.

"Bullet wound," he called out and Kwame's face hardened for a moment. "Bastards' shot 'em."

"She had three children," Ma-Ti murmured, his voice breaking and barely audible over the wind. "Two girls and a boy."

Shoulders slumped and looking sick, the Heart Planeteer turned and trudged back towards the vehicles.

Kwame watched him go, pushing his hands deep within his pockets. He felt Wheeler's presence beside him and glanced down, seeing Rachel Manitoff's lanyard still wrapped around his colleague's fingers.

"So they're freakin' shootin' people now?"

"Apparently so." Kwame motioned towards the cars and together they made their way back towards the vehicles. "It was only a matter of time."

"God-damn animals."

Together they reached the ridge and slid down the embankment. Wheeler could see Linka peering out the window with a worried expression on her face. "What is it?" she asked as Kwame opened the car door and sat down heavily beside her.

Wheeler looked away, hopping quickly back into the warmth of his own SUV with a heavy sigh. Gi straightened in her seat and peered at the plastic ID card currently clutched within his fingers.

"What did you find?" she asked. Wheeler leaned forward and handed the lanyard to Trooper Cronin.

"The missin' investigation team," he muttered, settling back in his seat while the Trooper got straight on the radio, notifying headquarters of the discovery. "Might wanna' call for back-up. Whoever's behind this — they're armed."

* * *

"Doctor Blight?"

The Doctor groaned, rolling over violently and wrapping a plush pillow over her head. A pink satin eye-mask sat crooked across the bridge of her nose and she resettled herself on her back, readjusting the satin across her eyelids again.

"Excuse me, Doctor Blight."

" _Whadisit_?"

"Doctor, I… I have discovered… an anomaly."

Blight sat up, rubbing her face and tossing the eye mask aside. She glared at the monitor, or more specifically, the face peering down at her. "Define anomaly."

"Some interesting data… on the camera feed. You really need to come and take a look."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"I think we made contact… with the other side."

Blight's jaw dropped open. She pushed her hair out of her face and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sober and awake now. "What do you mean, _contact_? The bridge didn't hold."

She strode out of her bedroom and hurried through the compound. It took 40 seconds to reach the lab and she pushed open the doors. They slammed against the wall but Blight barely noticed. Perching herself on a cushioned lab stool, she took manual control of the system and accessed the feed.

"Where is it?" she said, breathless with anticipation. "What did you find?"

The feed flashed several frames per second, and Blight watched the beam of light flash downwards, illuminating the reflective surface below. The images slowed and MAL dragged three frames to the front of the screen.

Doctor Blight squinted, confused by what she was seeing. "What is that?"

"Three frames, Doctor. Small, but enough to know that there was something on the other side."

The frames were cropped and the pixels digitally enhanced. Blight sat back, stunned as she watched the image take shape before her eyes.

"What is that?" she asked, reaching across and touching the glass in wonder. "Looks like a room."

"My thoughts too. And look…" MAL enhanced the top right corner of the frame. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Big, ugly-ass mirror." Blight opened her mouth and closed it again. She was quite honestly gobsmacked and peered closer until her nose was practically touching the image. "Is that writing?"

"Yes." MAL exclaimed gleefully. "If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it's pink lipstick! I think your future self is trying to comm…"

"No shit, Sherlock," she muttered, clicking further to enhance the message scrawled on the mirror. Blight scanned the writing, chewing on the end of her thumb. "It's in reverse. Can you…"

"Already deciphering."

Blight sat quietly, considering the implications of this new information. The frames disappeared, and her attention turned to a command screen that blinked to life, spitting out random numbers, symbols and words.

Eyes wide with wonder, Blight massaged her temples as she scanned the command screen.

"Okay. We have two more equations to add to your programming, MAL."

"Your future self is ever so helpful, Doctor."

"Hmph." Leaning forward, she recorded the equations into her notebook. "That's longitude and latitude coordinates. A date too," she remarked, pointing at the centre of the command screen.

"The last request will be rather problematic," MAL casually mentioned, noticing Blight's raised eyebrows as she reached the final sentence. "Any ideas?"

"Might need to bring in some help with that one," she mused, lost in thought. Swivelling on her chair, Blight stepped away from her stool and wandered back to her room, intent on making a few phone calls.

She was definitely going to need some muscle.

MAL busily saved and backed-up the files, storing them in folders before shutting down the monitors. The command system stayed on, however… it's decoded message glowing as brightly as it had when the Doctor had first reviewed it. The final sentence was visible for several more moments…

_Bring the blonde AND her ring._

Then it too faded into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Doctor Blight sat at the crowded bar, nursing her Long Island iced tea as she scanned her surroundings. She watched the university students file in from the campus downtown. Having finished their classes for the week, the students would be looking forward to unwinding with a few drinks on a rowdy Friday night.

Many of the young people were quite obviously underage, but this was part of the bar's appeal: ID's were often overlooked in this part of town. Blight felt nothing but disdain for the young people here: the girls in their mini-dresses, heels and heavily made up faces. The boys with their false bravado: loud and obnoxious as they tried to out-do one another.

She turned back to her drink, taking a sip and glaring at the bartender whose discomfort was palpable. A body dropped into the stool beside her and she knew who it was without looking. The combination of Brut 'Old Spice' and cigar smoke was a dead giveaway.

"You'd better have a good reason for calling this meeting, Barbara." Looten Plunder's voice was as smooth as ever, tinged with just the right amount of annoyance to invoke a glance from the scientist. "It's not good for us to be seen together."

Blight shrugged, turning to face him. She got straight to the point. "I need a favour."

Plunder stared at her. "Haven't I done enough favours for you? I'm funding all your resea…."

"I've done it."

Plunder stopped and closed his mouth, pressing his hands together as he considered her words.

"You mean…"

"Yeah," she said, reaching into her hand bag and tossing four printed images onto the counter in front of him. Blight drew forward the first three and tapped her finger on them. "Here… and here. These images are from my fourth attempt. You can clearly see the other side. The bridge was too unstable, it didn't hold …but I appear to have left a message for myself."

"You appear to… you mean…"

"I must have known where my first coordinates would be. Wrote some equations and a message on the mirror."

"What did the message say?" Plunder interrupted, intrigued but Doctor Blight shook his head.

"We'll get to that in a minute. The new equations work. This was my fifth attempt," she said, drawing forth the final photo.

Plunder's eyes went wide as he stared at the captured image of a silver vortex, resembling a funnel that had replaced the reflective surface on the floor of Blight's lab.

"I need a drink," he muttered, pursing his lips and motioning to the bartender. He ordered a scotch, before lowering his gaze to the phenomenon under his hands. "This is incredible."

Blight grinned as she retrieved her cell phone from her hand bag. "I've removed this file from MAL's hard drive. If you like that, you're gonna' love this."

She pressed play and handed the phone to him, delighting in the look of abject wonder on her colleague's face as the vortex swirled and throbbed in the video playback.

"This… Just think of the possibilities! Have you tested it?"

Blight shook her head, retrieving the phone prematurely from Plunder's vice-like grip. He glared at her and she smiled sweetly in return.

"Why haven't you tested it?" he asked, touching the photo's in front of him.

"MAL has a theory. Once we've gone through - once the particle transfer is complete, the blowback from the energy field may end up destroying the lab. It'll be a one-way ticket."

"What use is that to me," Plunder hissed, suddenly enraged. "How am I meant to make money off something that's only good for one trip?"

"Because," Blight said with a roll of her eyes, "I doubt I would send myself all this information and not have a way back home. 'Future me' may have perfected the wormhole transfer and when I return… who knows. You'll soon be ducking back and forth along the time-space continuum with winning lottery numbers, stock-exchange tips. The possibilities are endless."

Blight grinned, sidling up beside him and nudging his shoulder with her own. Plunder visibly relaxed... he seemed consoled by that.

"You said you needed a favour?"

"Ah, yes," she said, twisting around to face him. "I need the Russian. More precisely, 'future me' has requested the Russian."

Plunder frowned, still perusing the images in front of him. "Who? The Russian president?"

"No, you idiot! Blondie."

He glanced up at her, clearly surprised. "Why?"

"How should I know? Don't care. The message asked me to bring her and her ring along for the ride. I'm gonna' need some muscle to help me out. That's where you come in."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going through that thing," Plunder muttered, indignant. He raised his hand and motioned towards two men standing by the front door of the bar. "But I can spare these two."

The men approached, weaving between the steady throng of bodies on their way towards the bar. Blight leaned back in her chair, amused as a skinny, dark-haired guy tipped backwards on the dance-floor, laughing. He inadvertently bumped into one of Plunder's bodyguards and stumbled, raising his hands in apology.

Sporting a crew cut, thick-set body and ropy with muscle, the body guard picked him up and tossed him into the crowd, sending the kid sprawling along the floor. The sea of bodies quickly parted to make way for the intimidating pair.

"Ooh, I like him," Blight smiled, staring at the unfamiliar recruit as he shoved another student out of the way. She sipped her drink again. "He's feisty."

Plunder sighed, having reached the limit of his tolerance for drunken college students. The two men reached the counter and flanked themselves either side of their boss. "This is Kroi. He's new. Built like a brick shit-house and rather cranky, but he get's the job done. You already know Bleak."

"Got a job for us, boss?" Bleak asked, glaring at Barbara Blight. "Not loanin' us out, are ya?"

"She'll fill you in later," Plunder said, standing and pushing his chair under the counter. "The good doctor needs a hand with something… sensitive."

"If Blight's involved, I want double my usual pay," Bleak snapped. "Things tend to go pear shaped when 'doctor dimwit' is involved."

Plunder grabbed his jacket, tucking it under his arm and staring down his employee. "If you're successful and make it back, I'll _triple_ your pay. Deal."

Bleak grunted, seemingly appeased.

"Keep me out of all communication. I'm off the books on this one. Don't contact me until you're back… if you make it back, that is."

Barbara Blight got to her feet, leaning forward and placing a kiss against Plunder's cheek.

"Toodles," she whispered, before turning and beckoning for her hired thugs to follow. She folded her arm within Kroi's and headed for the door. Argos Bleak followed close behind, scowling with the distinct air of someone who knew they were in over their head but was utterly powerless to stop it.

* * *

Ma-Ti's teeth were chattering. The air was positively frigid… even breathing hurt. He wrapped his arms around himself, bracing himself against the wind and sleet falling sideways. A tanker rolled by and he stepped away, watching it disappear into one of the busy terminals.

Their investigations had turned up very little around Prudhoe. The illegal wells were empty but they'd found the area where the oil had been transferred. The spill area was massive, made worse by the fact that the transfer had occurred too close to the shore line, spreading into the sea.

Ma-Ti had surmised that whoever was behind the syphoning had been interrupted by the investigation team's arrival. There was an exchange of gunfire and the oil was hurriedly transferred to vehicles, bound for the nearest port. The secret was out, so they'd cut their losses and bolted.

Gi had cleaned up what she could with her ring, but hundreds of dead fish and birds had remained, floating as a permanent reminder of the damage inflicted.

They'd followed the tyre tracks for a while, aware that they seemed to be leading towards the port of Valdez. Ma-Ti had hung around outside, keeping an eye on things while the others had snuck in to take a look around. Another tanker rumbled past and Ma-Ti tilted his head, reading the sticker on the side of the vehicle.

_Sludge Industries PTY LTD_

He raised his ring and made contact with the others.

* * *

"I do not wish to get him into trouble, but I sometimes find his behaviour bordering on inappropriate, Kwame."

Kwame rolled his eyes, continuing his surveillance of the cargo ship currently docked in the harbour. Tankers were pulling up every ten minutes and a flurry of activity was present.

"Kwame?"

He sighed, glancing back at Linka's angst-ridden face. "Did you ask him to leave the tent, Linka?"

She paused, turning pink as she considered her answer. "Well, _nyet_ but I…"

"Did he do anything _physically_ inappropriate to you."

" _Nyet_. No," she muttered, pushing her hair away from her eyes. "He would never do that."

"No, he wouldn't," Kwame said, switching his gaze back to the cargo ship. "He adores you, Linka. But if you are uncomfortable with anything Wheeler says or does, you need to be up front with him."

"But I am," she insisted rather loudly, drawing attention from one of the dock workers. They ducked down behind a forklift, holding their breath as the worker eventually returned to his duties. "I am…" she whispered.

Kwame shook his head with exasperation. They had been through this many times and tended to run around in circles. Seven years. He honestly thought that after so long, they would have sorted themselves out by now. He sighed, grasping Linka's shoulders and leaning in close.

"No. You are not clear at all. You grumble and you chastise him but you never outrightly tell him to stop. He would stop if you asked him. I think the issue here is that when it comes to Wheeler, you do not know what you want, Linka. I think that frightens you."

"That is not true," she hissed, her green eyes flashing. "I…"

"Linka, you know that I abhor sexual harassment of any nature. I will not condone it, nor will I stand for it…"

"Oh, it is not like that," she added rather hastily, flushing bright red despite the chilly air. "He would never…"

"Say the word and I will tell him to leave you alone — for good."

She opened her mouth and closed it again, staring at Kwame and not quite knowing how to respond to that.

Her silence spoke volumes.

"I thought as much," he said, returning his gaze to the tankers again. "It is not a crime to admit you like the man."

"I… I do not _like_ …" she spluttered, clenching her fists and refusing to look at him now. "That is not even relevant…"

"It is very relevant," Kwame smiled, knowing he'd touched a nerve. "Want to know what I think?"

" _Nyet_ ," she muttered under her breath.

"I think you both just need to get laid. Get it over with."

"That is not funny." Linka shoved him and folded her arms, ignoring the smirk on Kwame's face. She dropped down onto the pavement, crossing her legs and gazing up at him. "Sometimes… sometimes I think… maybe if he wasn't such a clown all of the time. If he were more serious…"

"Wheeler's personality is one of his most redeeming features, Linka. Our work would be a lot harder without his optimism and humour."

He heard Linka mumble her response - Kwame was unable to decipher it and didn't ask for clarification. He knew she was pondering his words.

He pointed towards a stocky figure heading towards the gang plank, barking orders to the workers by the dock. "There's Sludge. Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

"We rollin' on 'em or what?"

Wheeler stood against a pier; his arms folded and a look of annoyance on his face. Back-up had arrived and several vehicles had pulled in with uniformed officers. They were currently taking positions in strategic places throughout the dock, ready to board the ship and make arrests.

Ma-Ti shook his head and glanced in the direction of the officer in charge: a portly man with thinning hair who was currently waving his arms around and looked anything but in control.

"No. They want us to stay away."

Wheeler scoffed. "Then why the hell did we come here? Drag us all the way out here to be observers?"

"They probably think they have it under control," Ma-Ti said, watching as the teams started descending on the cargo ship. "They are trained professionals."

"It's Sludge," Gi replied, the disdain evident in her voice. "The man's not going down without a fight… unless Cap is involved, that is."

Wheeler smirked. "Yeah. Folds like an accordion whenever the blue guy starts telling jokes."

"I think we all do," Gi muttered. She smiled, crossing her arms against the chill as she turned to Ma-Ti. "Have you heard from Kwame and Linka?"

"Yes. They're tracking down the money trail. Sludge will definitely have a buyer lined up."

"Our resident hacker on the case," Wheeler said, keeping his eyes trained on the cargo ship. The last of the officers had disappeared onboard. "She still pissed about my little sleepover last night?"

"No. She's fine."

"I was kinda disappointed," he said, giving Gi a cheeky grin. "I was expectin' pillow fights, naked mud wrestling. You know… all the stuff girls do together in bed at night."

"You just wanted to snuggle, tough guy," Gi shot back. "You had Linka wrapped up tighter than a pile of presents on Christmas morning."

Wheeler winked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the pier again. "Yeah, what can I say? I'm a self-confessed cuddler."

"I would have given you a cuddle," Ma-Ti said quietly, a sly smile on his face.

"No offence man. I'm flattered, but I don't swing that way."

"Neither do I, my friend," Ma-Ti laughed. "But the offer is always there."

Gi held her hand up and they calmed, peering in the direction of the cargo ship. A loud bang issued from the upper deck, followed by a peppering of what sounded like fire crackers. Shouts followed.

"Yeah. I think that's our personal invitation to crash the party," Wheeler said. He nodded towards the ship and the three Planeteers sprinted towards the empty gang plank.

* * *

"I don't care, we're casting off! I've got 1.8 million bucks tied up here and I'm not gonna' let a bunch of redneck hicks stop me!"

Sly Sludge was sweating profusely. He hauled his large frame over the metal handrail and scampered below deck, pushing past several of his crew-members. A pistol was gripped tightly within his grubby fingers and he removed the safety, cursing under his breath at the unwelcome visitors who had stormed the ship.

He'd honestly thought he'd gotten away with it. The software he'd purchased from Blight a few weeks ago allowed him to keep one step ahead of law enforcement. He'd been alerted to the impending arrival of the investigation team back in Prudhoe, courtesy of the APB broadcast requesting assistance. His men had been ready for them.

Like lambs to the slaughter, Sludges mercenaries had hidden themselves away and dispatched them in a hail of bullets while the rest of the crew had drained the wells.

Blight's software had also picked up the alert issued regarding a sting operation about to get underway in Valdez, and Sludge was under no illusions about what that was regarding. They'd had a 20 minute head start and the hail of gunfire trained on the unsuspecting agents had been most satisfying.

A shout issued from behind Sludge and he turned, glaring at his second in charge: a tall, weedy man named Russo with a scar running down his left cheek.

"Engines are powering up, boss," Russo said, flinching as a bullet ricocheted off the metal close to his head. Sludge shot back and the uniformed officer went down, clutching his stomach. Russo breathed out, relieved. "We're heading out to sea."

"Good. Keep it that way."

"What do we do with them?" he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the fallen officer.

"Toss em' overboard when we're in open water. Don't care, really," Sludge barked. With that, he continued his wheezy lunge upstairs towards the bridge, shouldering the door open and stumbling inside. The area was empty and he hurried towards the back, towards the small table that housed his briefcase and laptop computer.

Only the laptop wasn't there anymore.

* * *

Linka slipped into the utility room unnoticed, closing the door quietly behind her. Her breath caught as more gunfire erupted somewhere below. Her nerves were already fraught, but she did her best to push the concern from her mind. Kwame had disappeared at the first sign of gunfire, intent on helping out and leaving Linka to navigate Sludge's files alone.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Linka opened the monitor and turned the computer on, waiting for the system to boot up. The door creaked behind her and she twisted, raising her ring in fright.

"Wi…"

"Whoa!" Wheeler yelled, holding his hands out in a gesture of good will. "Just me."

"Wheeler, I nearly…" she muttered, lowering her hand. She watched him close the door before sinking down to the floor beside her. "How did you know I was here?"

"Ma-Ti," he explained. "He's calling in help. Local exchange is down, no phone calls are getting out. Convenient timing…"

Linka frowned, recalling a previous eco-alert. "That is not the first time emergency services have failed, lately."

"Well, they'd better get their asses in gear or we'll be half-way to China by the time they catch on."

Her face lit up in the darkness as the monitor blinked to life, displaying a password screen. Wheeler watched with raised eyebrows as Linka reached down between her breasts and pulled out a small object, before sliding it into the USB port.

"Hmm," he said, tilting his head to the side and grinning at her. "Remind me to come back as your flash drive in my next life, babe."

"Are you planning on practicing Buddhism, Yankee?" she teased, keeping her eyes trained on the lines of coding that had replaced Sludge's start screen. 

"I'm willin' to try anything if it means getting better acquainted with the twins," he laughed, peering over her shoulder as her graceful fingers began typing commands into the screen. "Knowing my luck, I'm more likely to end up reincarnated as a wad of chewing gum under your boot."

" _Da_. Under my heel would be a good start for you." She grinned, biting her lip as Sludge's files were easily accessed. "He is selling the oil to someone in Europe. I have an email trail."

"Cool," Wheeler said, glancing back towards the door as a flurry of footsteps passed the room they were holed up in. He pushed himself to his feet, standing guard and ready to act in case anyone forced their way through. "Sludge isn't going down without a fight."

"Hmmm," she replied, not really paying attention to her team mate. She made a small sound of disgust. "Ugh. He watches a lot of videos… with naked ladies."

"Man's only human," Wheeler replied with a grin.

Linka shot him an amused look, tutting quietly under her breath. "Degenerate."

"Yep."

"All right. I have emails, phone logs, bank statements," she mused, scrolling down to a folder with an infinity notation. "I can see..."

"What?"

She frowned, peering closer at the screen. "This is strange...”

More gunfire began and Wheeler crouched down beside Linka, looking more nervous than he was comfortable with. A loud bang came from just outside the door and an alarm began to drone. "Babe… might be a good idea to hit the road."

”What is SAIP?”

”Huh?” Wheeler eyed the door nervously. The shots were getting louder. “Babe, we —“

"Wait," she murmured, entering the file directory. Her eyes widened as she took in the complex algorithms and codes, scanning the contents of the program with mounting horror. Her hands left the keyboard, watching as the monitor filled with thousands of tiny numbers, swirling and ebbing like waves. It was beautiful. 

"Wheeler, this coding is embedded within everything here… evolving on it's own… almost as if it is self…"

"That's fascinatin', babe," he murmured, grabbing her bag and tossing it over his shoulder. "Seriously, think we'd better —"

"The complexity... it is staggering, I have never seen —"

"Yep. Great. Gotta go," he grunted, grabbing her under the arms. An explosion sounded, followed by screams and Linka recoiled in fright, her hands still outstretched towards the keyboard. 

Wheeler hauled her upright and she gave a high-pitched huff as he set her back on her feet again. He gripped her hand and tugged her alongside him. "We're about to have company."

"Wait," she gasped, dragging him back and bending down to pick up the laptop. She shoved it under her arm, leaving her ring hand free as Wheeler pulled her towards the door. "I am taking this with me."

"Christ," he muttered, noting the resolute line of her jaw as she wedged it tightly against her side. "Well, you're carryin' it."

The door handle jiggled and he shoved Linka roughly against the wall as two of Sludge's men burst through with guns.

"FIRE!"

Wheeler made easy work of the weapons, liquifying them at high heat while the stunned men bellowed out in pain. He shoulder-barged his way through them, using his ring to melt the lock and seal them inside.

"C'mon," he said, eying the way out cautiously. Wheeler squeezed her hand, leading Linka out into the corridor beyond. "Let's go find _Señor Sludge._ " 

* * *

 

"I was home free!" Sludge roared. The man was bound in handcuffs and leg restraints, his face bright red with rage as he glared at Kwame, Gi, Ma-Ti and the lead officers. "Woulda' gotten away with it if you planet-pukes hadn't interfered!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Gi muttered under her breath.

He snorted, fixing them with a belligerent stare. "I would have. Blight's given me the.."

"Given you what?" Kwame asked, stepping forward and staring him down. Sludge struggled against the two officers holding him before shutting his mouth, looking away sullenly.

"Nothin'," he muttered, watching as his men were rounded up and escorted from the bridge, heading towards the waiting coast guard. Equipment beeped and buzzed in the background, interrupted only by the shuffling noises made as the injured and dead were carried downstairs towards the outside deck. The whirl of a helicopter propeller blanketed the ship as Wheeler and Linka entered the bridge.

Kwame breathed a sigh of relief. He'd lost track of them.

"Hey, that's mine!" Sludge roared, struggling against his restraints and glaring at Linka. She shrunk back, clutching the equipment close to her chest. "You give that back, bitch!"

"Call her that again, asshole. I dare you…" Wheeler threatened through gritted teeth, moving forward with clenched fists. Linka placed a warning hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

A uniformed officer grabbed Sludge by the shoulder and turned him around, steering him towards the door. The Planeteers watched him shuffle slowly courtesy of the chains around his feet.

"See ya round," he muttered, smirking. "I'll be out before Christmas - plenty of time for the Lifetime movie to be filmed."

"What, you mean _World's Dumbest Criminals_ ," Wheeler shot back, crossing his arms as Sludge descended the stairs and disappeared from view. "Moron."

"Miss, I'm going to need to take that as evidence."

Linka blinked, not noticing that a plain-clothes detective had approached her and was waiting expectantly with his hands out. She glanced at Ma-Ti, her eyes wide and pleading.

Ma-Ti nodded. After a moment the detective stepped back, shaking his head slightly of the haze that had invaded his brain. He turned and walked out without his request, leaving Linka sighing with relief.

" _Spasiba_ ," she said, smiling thankfully.

"You're welcome. Where have you guys been?"

"I've been dodging gunfire while this one was shoppin' for an upgrade" Wheeler said, jacking his thumb in Linka's direction.

She frowned, glancing down at the computer. "I wanted to take a look. I found something on here…"

Kwame nodded. He sighed wearily, making his way onto the main deck with his team mates following close behind. They filed out slowly, watching on as Sludge was loaded onto a heavily-filled helicopter. It lifted into the air and took off, heading back towards the mainland and passing the coast guard ship that had just cast off; it's blue lights flashing.

"Uh, guys…" Gi said, noticing for the first time that they were in open waters. She sat down on the edge of the ship, dangling her legs over the side and peering out into the distance. "Have they just left us here?"

"God-damnit," Wheeler muttered, wandering off towards the bow of the ship as frustration coursed through his body. He kicked a shell casing across the surface and disappeared behind the cargo bay. "Typical."

"They are coming back," Ma-Ti called after him. "There was no room for us."

Linka sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears as she sunk down beside Gi. The ocean air was cold against her face and she zipped her jacket up. Booting the laptop back up again, she began to explore.


	7. Chapter 7

"Doctor?"

Barbara Blight's giggles assaulted MAL's sensitive hardware and he frowned, glaring at his master. Intelligent as he was, MAL simply didn't understand the dynamics of human peer bonding. MAL had designated himself a gender at the point of creation. He identified as male but even that minor decision left him unable to compute the activity currently going on in Doctor Blight's hot-tub.

"Ahem."

A set of pink, painted toe nails emerged from the bubbles and MAL craned his monitor down, watching the bubbles froth and part due to the waves created by his master and her _friend_. MAL wasn't impressed by her choice of play-mate. A muscle-bound ape with a crew-cut and a guttural accent, he assumed Mr Kroi was Slavic - perhaps Ukrainian or Bulgarian judging by the accent.

"DOCTOR BLIGHT!"

"WHAT?" she cursed, spluttering as she broke through the white froth and glared back at the monitor, her hair wet and plastering her face.

"We have a complication."

"And what would that be?" She smiled as Kroi submerged from the water, leaning back against the tub and reaching for a glass of wine.

"Your software has fallen into some unexpected hands."

"And who's hands would they be?"

"Our little blonde friend."

Blight stopped her ministrations for a moment, pulling her knees up to her chest as she regarded MAL curiously. "How did she get it?"

"Took it off Sludge."

"Should I be worried?" Blight glanced towards the next room, knowing Argos Bleak was currently making preparations for a snatch and grab. "The plan is to…"

"She'll come to us, Doctor," MAL grinned. "I'll lay enough online breadcrumbs to ensure she knows your location."

"Says the spider to the fly," she spoke in a low tone, delighted at the unexpected news. Blight blew the monitor a kiss, sending bubbles scattering through the air. "Love your work, MAL baby."

"I'll keep you updated, Doctor…"

But Blight had already descended under the water, pulling her plaything below the surface with her.

* * *

Orange and pink hues greeted them on their touchdown on Hope Island. After three months away, their home had put on a spectacular sunset for them. Gi swung the door open of the Geo-Cruiser and breathed in the sand and salt. The effects were instantaneous: the tension in her neck and shoulders (as well as the persistent tiredness) simply drifted away.

Gi followed Wheeler out, giggling as he threw himself theatrically down onto the ground and began making sand angels with his arms and legs. She sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest and looking out across the bay with a smile.

"Good to be home?"

Wheeler stretched and sat up. "Hell, yeah."

"Catch!"

Ma-Ti's warning was not fast enough. Wheeler's travel bag was launched out of the Geo-Cruiser and it clipped the unsuspecting Fire Planeteer across the head.

"Ow," he groaned, finding himself sprawled out on the cooling sand again. Gi's bag followed shortly after, however she did a much better job of receiving it.

Linka stepped out carefully: her bag hauled over one shoulder and Sludge's laptop balanced across her other arm. She barely looked up from the screen as she crossed the sand towards her hut, weaving an unsteady path no doubt due to her inability to see where she was going.

Gi watched her go, aware of the fact that her attention had been on the monitor for the entirety of the trip home.

"Has Sludge written an enthralling romance novel or something?" Gi queried, glancing at Wheeler as he hauled himself up into a sitting position and tossed his bag aside.

"I seriously doubt Sludge can even write his own name," he commented drily. "Nah, something about a weird file she found."

"Oh."

"You comin' for a swim?" he asked as he drew his t-shirt over his head, suddenly eager to hit the water before the last of the light departed. Kwame and Ma-Ti headed towards the common room, chatting quietly as Gi considered his offer.

"Sure, why not," she said. "I'll be down in five minutes."

"Sweet," he remarked. Picking up his bag, he ambled towards his own hut with a slight spring in his step, evidently glad to be home.

Gi smiled as she gazed out at the bay. She caught a glimpse of Gaia's form in the distance; her mauve dress flowing in the breeze. The spirit was bent over at the waist, tending to a small outcrop of shrubs that had sprung up near the rock wall. Gaia straightened and raised her hand in greeting and the Water Planeteer waved back.

Gathering her things, Gi pushed herself to her feet and walked the short path to her hut, intent on locating her swimming costume.

* * *

 It was nine pm.

The common room was dark, save for the glow emanating from the television. Wheeler had stretched himself out on the couch and was struggling to find something decent to watch. The reception on Hope Island was pretty ordinary but he persevered, flicking between channels until he found a delayed telecast of a basketball game.

Tossing the remote aside Wheeler flung his arm over his face, content to simply relax with some background noise for company. The seclusion didn't last long however as his ears pricked at the sound of bare feet padding the tiles behind him.

Opening his eyes, a sheath of long blonde hair passed his vision; it's owner dressed in a floral cami and matching shorts. The ever-present lap-top was still clutched in her hands.

Linka dropped onto the single seater to Wheeler's left, curling her feet underneath her body and barely looking up. He doubted she even knew he was there.

He sat watching her for a while as she concentrated on the task at hand; a slight frown on her lovely face. Her teeth pressed upon her bottom lip and her fingers worked tirelessly over the keyboard. Wide, green eyes were illuminated by the light of the monitor, offset by long lashes and delicate ears.

"Hey," he said softly, and she glanced up with a surprised look on her face. "Sludge's browsing history can't be that interesting."

"I did not notice you," she said with a smile, before returning her gaze to the computer. "There is a file here that is troubling me."

"Yeah, we all gathered that," he replied, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "Sludge family home movies? Lost Kennedy assassination tapes?"

Linka chuckled. She rose to her feet suddenly and covered the distance between them; sinking down onto the plush cushions beside him. Her hair fell about her face in loose waves.

Her shampoo overwhelmed him and he leaned in closer - more to immerse himself in the scent of her skin and hair as opposed to viewing the bulky lap-top she had placed across both their laps.

"Here," she said, pointing at the screen. "I think this is the reason why emergency services have been so slow to respond during some of our eco alerts."

"Whadya' mean?" Wheeler frowned, unable to make heads or tails of the complicated sequence of data filling the screen. "I see nothin' but mumbo-jumbo."

Linka sighed, entering a series of commands into the DOS prompt. The screen faded, replaced by the Department of Homeland Security screen.

Wheeler narrowed his eyes, still not quite understanding. "Okay. That's great if I have a research project due on the DHS —"

" _Nyet_ , Yankee," Linka explained, tapping the monitor. "This is not the web page. This is the _server_ itself. This software allows access to a variety of government agencies. Confidential files, arrest records, traffic cameras, drug hauls, military bases… even police and emergency radio frequencies. This "SAIP" file is a highly evolved program and I believe it is self aware. It is frightening."

"Self aware? You mean…" Wheeler fumbled for a moment, struggling to find the words. "You mean, like MAL?"

" _Da_ ," she nodded, flexing her fingers over the keyboard and tapping another set of commands into the prompt. Linka gestured towards the screen and Wheeler leaned forward, finding himself looking at the intranet for the National Security Complex in Oak Ridge, Tennessee.

"Wheeler, this is where they stockpile uranium… atomic bombs. This program allowed me to walk right in. It took me ten seconds to break through the firewall for the FBI database."

"They can't like… take money or nuclear weapons and stuff, can they?"

" _Nyet_ , I do not think so. There seem to be parameters built in. The most they can do is access inventory and interfere with things. Transfer products. There are restrictions. But I do not know… it may only be a matter of time."

"Geez," Wheeler muttered, meeting her eyes. She looked tense and nervous, a rare combination of emotions. He slung an arm around her shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on the monitor. "Look, the file's with us now. Not a lot Sludge can do from behind bars."

"Kwame said he overheard Sludge mention that he had received something from Blight. I am wondering if she has been selling this software… maybe others have already purchased it?" Linka sighed, rubbing her face and leaning back against him. " _Bozhe moy_. Maybe I am over-thinking this."

Wheeler regarded her with raised eyebrows. "Maybe you're just tired after chasing down asshole criminals day-in and day-out."

"Hmm," she answered, yawning. There were dark circles under her eyes. "That is a possibility."

They sat in a companionable silence for a while, the sound of the sports commentators intermingled with the rhythmic tapping of Linka's fingers on the keyboard.

Wheeler settled his eyes on the game again, enjoying both her company and the fact that she hadn't removed herself from his loose embrace. He watched the last half of the LA Lakers as they annihilated the Chicago Bulls, risking sneaky glances at her from time to time.

Opportunities like this were few and far between. She still took his breath away. No other girl had even come close to having such a lasting effect on him, but she seemed to be holding out. They'd reached a stalemate and he was powerless to do anything about it.

As the post-game commentary wrapped up, he felt increased pressure on his ribs and he turned, glancing at his colleague. Linka was now slumped against his side, fast asleep. Her head lolled against his shoulder and her lips were slightly parted, breathing steadily; her palms resting on top of the keyboard.

Wheeler felt a strong surge of affection for her; his feelings undiminished even after seven years. Time had only enhanced Linka's physical appearance. She was gorgeous at sixteen, but had matured into a stunningly beautiful woman, all curves and softness but with a razor-sharp wit and intimidating intelligence.

He shifted, glancing down at her hand as it slipped off the computer — now laying palm up over his thigh. Slender, delicate fingers twitched every few moments.

"Okay," he murmured, switching the TV off and prizing the laptop away from her other hand. Rising to his feet, he slipped his arms beneath her back and legs. Wheeler hauled her up off the couch and into his arms, readjusting her weight until she was resting comfortably against his chest.

Carrying her out, Wheeler moved through the twisting path between living quarters. Reaching her hut, he nudged the door open and manoeuvred her inside.

Her bed was made; sheets tucked in with an almost military precision, and for a moment he struggled with the semantics of peeling the bed linen away without dropping her. It took three attempts before he succeeded. Placing her on the mattress, Linka mumbled something tiredly. She rolled over with a sigh, curling into a foetal position as he tucked the quilt around her body.

Wheeler stood quietly, watching her fall easily back into sleep. He gave her room a cursory look-over, noting the neat and orderly nature: a complete contradiction to the current state of his own hut. Text books lay in a pile on her desk and he peered at the contents of her dresser, touching the bottles of perfume and trinkets from their travels.

A small telescope stood by the window, aimed upwards towards the heavens. He touched the cold metal, for no other reason than the fact that he _could_. Very rarely did he ever have a reason (or permission) to enter Linka's hut and he found himself distracted by this precious insight into the complicated Russian.

His thoughts turned to the potential dressing-down he might receive in the morning and that snapped him back to reality.

"Night, gorgeous," he said softly, passing through the entrance and closing the door behind him.

Wheeler wandered back to his hut, head down and lost in thought - unaware of Gaia's presence; hidden and observing him fondly from behind the palm trees.

* * *

"Hello there."

Linka's eyes flew open. Her heart skipped a beat and she suddenly wondered if she had dreamed the voice. Bringing her hands to her face, she rubbed her eyes and rolled over onto her side.

"Hello, young lady."

She sat upright, frozen and uncomprehending. It was a voice she recognised. Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and dropped to the floor, checking under her bed for a body to match the disembodied tones she'd heard again.

A scoff, followed by an annoyed mutter. "I'm not under there, sweetheart. But if you wish to play hide and seek, I'm keen."

"MAL?" Linka's mouth dropped open as she stared, uncomprehending. "Wait, how did you —"

"Oh, your little Asian friend brought me in about an hour ago. I was left discarded on the couch last night. I like your island, by the way. Very tropical."

Linka crept closer, staring in wonder and dropping into her chair. The laptop lay closed on her desk in front but the light was blinking on the hard drive, indicating that the system was on. She reached forward with trembling fingers but reconsidered, clasping her hands in her lap instead.

"You can open me. I'm not going to bite."

Linka looked around, suddenly nervous and wanting the other Planeteers on board for moral support. MAL was not exactly an entity to be trusted.

She pushed a subconscious request towards Ma-Ti and straightened, pulling open the monitor. Mal's green form grinned back at her.

"Ah, that's better." He grinned, regarding Linka curiously. "I must say, you certainly wake up a lot easier on the eye than my creator."

"Why are you here?" Linka demanded, crossing her arms across her chest and suddenly feeling very vulnerable. "What are you doing in Sludge's computer?"

"Technically, I'm not. Call me an echo. I'm part of the program Sludge purchased."

"And what has he purchased?"

MAL scoffed. "I think you already know the answer to that question. You seemed to navigate my files better than any of the other buyers."

"What?" Linka gaped at him. "There are other buyers?"

"Of course there are others." MAL rolled his eyes, as if the very question was preposterous. "Doctor Blight is a businesswoman, as well as an incredibly gifted—“

" _Bozhe moy,_ " Linka muttered. "Da, we all know of her _gifts_."

"Oh honey, you have no idea," MAL drawled. "Doctor Blight is —"

"How many people have bought this program?"

MAL smirked. "Three. Only one seems to be using it to it's full potential, though."

"What do you mean?"

MAL smirked, pulling up a news report from the internet dated yesterday and displaying it on screen. "Whoops… it appears a police shipment of black-market guns has gone missing from the depository. Silly humans."

Linka stared at the news headline, doing her best to ignore MAL's smug face. "How long has this software been available?"

"Three weeks. Blight has another two buyers lined up with Version 1.8. That'll definitely keep you pests on your toes."

Linka leaned in close, narrowing her eyes at the sentient program. "Then we'll find them and wipe every trace —"

MAL yawned, as if he were already bored of the conversation. "Good luck. Destroying the original file would be the only option. The pathways are controlled by the mainframe from cyberspace."

"The mainframe? You mean —"

"Oh look," MAL said in wonder, glancing down. "Low battery. Don't suppose you stole Sludge's power cord while you were pinching his computer."

" _Dyermo_ ," Linka swore, standing and looking for her own power cord. She already knew it was a useless exercise: her Apple MacBook cord didn't have a hope of fitting Sludge's generic power needs.

"Nice chatting to you, Blondie. See ya around," MAL grinned. His image dimmed somewhat, before fading completely. The system powered down and the screen was soon blank. Drained.

Linka clutched the back of her chair tightly, feeling deeply unsettled. Turning, she gazed at the other four Planeteers who had assembled at her first request for help. They had stayed out of MAL's field of vision, perched silently on her bed or sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"You heard all of that?" Linka asked worriedly.

Kwame nodded. "Most of it. It is concerning, to say the least. What did he mean by 'destroying the mainframe'?"

Linka sighed, sinking into her chair and touching the flash drive on her desk. "It means I would have to destroy the original file… MAL."

"Can you do that?" Gi asked, genuinely curious.

She shook her head. " _Nyet._ It is too far reaching. Something, maybe a virus would need to be developed. I would need to study MAL's design further." She tapped Sludge's laptop and gave them a small smile. "At least I have a starting point, though."

"In the meantime, perhaps we need to track down Blight's buyers.” Gi frowned, playing with the buttons on her night shirt. "I'd prefer to be proactive about this rather than wait for the next mess they cause. Our lives are going to get a lot harder if we don't act."

"Blight's not going to tell us," Kwame said, his brown eyes reflecting the frustration they all felt.

"Then we stick a ring in her face and ask her _real_ nicely," Wheeler muttered. He jumped to his feet, heading out the door with the others falling in behind. "I swear to God… sometimes I wonder if we're just continually chasin' our tails with these idiots."

Kwame nodded. "I have had the same feeling, lately. Fifteen minutes, people."

With that, the Planeteers scurried in different directions, readying themselves for yet another mission.


	8. Chapter 8

"I do not like this," Ma-Ti voiced. He was nervous, on edge. Something just wasn't sitting right.

"What's to like, little buddy?" Wheeler said, eyeing the compound from their vantage point. "Reckon Blight's over-compensating for something?"

Blight's abode was an imposing structure, settled deep within the Nevada desert. It was nestled within a mountain range and accessible only by a winding dirt driveway. Ten foot electrified fences surrounded the compound, along with "Do Not Enter" signage attached to the wire every hundred feet or so.

Only the peaks of the antennas were visible, but they'd been able to get a clearer view by climbing to the top of the ridge.

Ma-Ti shook his head. His mouth was dry and his senses were on overdrive, alert but scrambled at the same time.

"I do not like this," he repeated, staring down at the valley of white alabaster walls. There was no movement below. No-one entering or leaving. No security. Nothing, it was deathly quiet. Ma-Ti turned and headed back down to the others, waiting by the car. "Something is not right. I think we should go."

"Linka ain't gonna' like that," Wheeler replied, following Ma-Ti down to where their team mates were waiting. His shoes lost traction near the base and he threw his hands out to counter-balance the shift, skidding gracefully to a stop. "Hey… anyone got an air mattress?"

"No time for tobogganing," Kwame said, giving his friend a reproachful look. He squinted at the map stretched out over the hood of the car: council blue-prints and floor plans for Blight's fortress. A utility building seemed to connect to the larger building and Kwame gestured towards it. "I say we enter here and then split up. Locate the good doctor and reconvene."

"Yeah, we can do more damage that way," Wheeler muttered.

Linka gave the Fire Planeteer a small smile and pushed her sunglasses further up her nose. She straightened, suddenly wishing she'd worn a t-shirt instead of her black singlet and jeans - the sun was scorching and the thin straps gave her no protection.

Civilian clothes had become a pre-requisite during the past few years for all of the Planeteers. Eco-villains spotted them a mile off with their Planeteer insignias and the need for a more _incognito_ appearance had become apparent.

Linka sighed, tying her hair into a loose ponytail and glancing up at the others. "All right. Let's do this."

* * *

Gi wandered the hallway, keeping close to the wall as she and Kwame searched room by room. The compound was huge, taking up two-three acres of space at least. The two teams had started at opposite ends of the compound and were planning on meeting somewhere in the middle. Resembling a maze, Gi and Kwame had already lost their bearings several times.

"Ugh. Blight should have paid for an interior decorator. This is revolting."

If the outside of the structure strove to remain unambiguous, the inside screamed poor taste. White walls were about the only classy feature present.

Every square corner of wall space was crammed with some form of paraphernalia: paintings with loud, garish designs. Graffiti - jagged doodles and equations sprayed in blistering bursts of colour. Statues of roman-like emperors, their physical forms leaving nothing to the imagination. Embroidery panels. Cross stitch. Animal skins. Gi winced as she passed a leopard pelt, stapled to the wall in a vulgar display.

"I think Doctor Blight may be losing her marbles."

"Did she have her marbles to begin with, Gi?" Kwame grimaced, eyeing one of the statues as he passed and the rather large appendage attached. "I hope Wheeler is behaving himself."

"Probably not."

Kwame tapped Gi on the shoulder and tilted his head towards a set of double doors to his left. They slipped through and entered, staring at the area with mounting dread.

The walls were covered in heavy soundproofing and a single gurney bed was set up in the middle, similar to the ones used in hospitals. Velcro straps lay attached to the steel supports and a closed monitor was attached to the ceiling, craning down on the would-be occupant.

"Jesus," Gi muttered, her face dropping several shades of colour as she reached out to touch the cold metal. "What the hell has she…"

"Let's not stick around to find out," Kwame replied, visibly rattled. He'd broken out in goosebumps the moment he'd noticed human hair caught within the criss-crossed bars.

Grabbing Gi's shoulders, he pushed her back towards the corridor. Finger-sized scratch marks had left a bloody trail on the internal doors and he shuddered, hoping that Gi hadn't noticed. "I think we need to find the others. I'm not comfortable with any of this."

* * *

"Doctor Douche-Bag has seriously outdone herself this time."

Wheeler gave a low whistle, staring up at a sandstone statue of the Egyptian god Anubis - sitting in the middle of the large, galley-style kitchen. It stood at least ten feet tall, it's jackal head leering down at Wheeler and looking glaringly out of place.

"Just weird."

"No one seems to be home." Regardless of her observation, Linka's nerves were frayed. She stepped closer to Wheeler, suddenly craving his security and comfort. "What are you getting from your ring, Ma-Ti?"

"We should not be here," Ma-Ti replied; the tension evident in his voice. "Something is not right."

"Ma-Ti, we must keep —"

"They are here. This was a bad idea. We need to get out of…"

"They? Who's _they_?" Wheeler retorted. "Do we have more than one crazy —"

Ma-Ti looked pale and sick. ”We need to go!”

"C'mon, man, you're —"

Linka saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. She spun around, raising her ring in fright.  ”Guys, someone is —“

Without warning, the lights went out, plunging the kitchen into darkness. 

Linka gasped as she staggered back, reaching blindly for Wheeler and grabbing hold of him. They spun around, back to back with rings outstretched.

Something was indeed very wrong. Linka’s intuition had by now kicked into overdrive.

“Ma-Ti!” Linka whispered. The only response was footsteps, followed by a soft scraping sound. Wheeler wrapped an arm across Linka’s chest, backing up against the stainless steel bench and pulling her with him.

A shuffling sound was audible, followed by a soft groan. Wheeler swivelled around, raising his ring in front of him again.

"Ma-Ti, where the hell are you?" he hissed. "Fire."

The room immediately glow red. A fourth figure was illuminated, crouched down on the ground beside Ma-Ti. The young man was struggling, held in place in a tight head-lock with a gun pressed against his temple. Night vision goggles were attached to the strangers face.

"Drop your rings. Now."

Wheeler hesitated. Linka's body tensed up; sinking her fingers into the flesh of Wheeler’s forearm.

The stranger snarled, impatient. He repositioned the gun and fired. Linka screamed as Ma-Ti gave an almighty howl of pain.

"You fucking bastard," Wheeler spat but the man returned the gun to Ma-Ti's temple, glaring at Wheeler.

"I will not ask again. Drop your rings."

Linka was crying now as she pulled her ring from her finger and tossed it away. She tightened her grip on Wheeler, gazing down at Ma-Ti and scarcely able to breathe.

Ma-Ti's eyes were tightly shut. One hand was pressed against the bullet wound in his calf while the other hand was clawing at the stranger's arm, trying to relieve the pressure around his throat.

"You too. Drop your ring."

Wheeler gritted his teeth, glaring at the stranger. Swearing under his breath, he tugged the ring from his hand using his teeth.

"Fine," he muttered, tossing the ring in the opposite direction to Linka's. He turned his head and Linka followed his gaze, hearing footsteps to his left. They watched a shadowy figure reach down and pick up Linka's ring.

"MAL," a familiar voice cooed as the room was filled with light again. Doctor Blight grinned, perching herself on top of the steel work surface as she studied the pair. She nodded towards the stranger and he released Ma-Ti from his tight grip.

The Heart Planeteer slumped to the floor, gasping for air but his relief was short lived. The man raised the butt of the gun and cracked it against Ma-Ti's skull, knocking him to the floor unconscious.

"Jesus," Wheeler bellowed, his voice breaking as Linka wrenched herself free and ran towards their stricken team mate. Wheeler followed in hot pursuit, dropping to his knees and checking for a pulse as Linka sobbed above him, clutching Ma-Ti's face in her hands.

"Don't want the little guy contacting your buddies now, do we?" Dr Blight pushed herself off the table, whipping her finger around. "Fire it up, MAL baby."

Linka glanced up, sensing more movement and was shocked to see Argos Bleak striding purposefully towards them.

_Oh shit._

"Get up, baby," Wheeler said urgently, gripping Linka under the arms and hauling her to her feet. He started pushing her towards the door as she clung to him desperately.

"Wheeler? We can’t just leave him, he’s —“ 

”Just go,” Wheeler whispered. His troubled gaze now seemed to be on the trigger-happy muscle guy. The man had by now risen to his feet; his steely gaze focused solely on Linka. "I think we're in trouble."

He shoved her toward the exit and she picked up the pace, scrambling ahead. Linka reached the door in a panic but quickly realised Wheeler was no longer with her. 

Glancing back, she saw Bleak’s arms wrapped tightly around Wheeler's neck, dragging him back towards the galley; his sneakers scuffing along the tiles as he struggled to free himself. 

A hard punch landed to his kidneys and Wheeler doubled over, winded as Bleak punched him again, attempting to wrestle him to the ground.

"Leave him alone!" she screamed, doubling back in a panic. She threw herself at Bleak, clinging to the mercenary's neck in an attempt to drag him off her friend. "Get off him!"

Bleak snarled. Pressing his knee into Wheeler's back, he blindly tried to fight off the girl scratching and clawing at his face.

"Fuck. Kroi!"

Linka registered a presence behind her and she threw herself forward, clutching Wheeler tighter in an effort to stay close to him. Rough hands reached around and gripped her wrists. She was hauled away, crying and kicking her feet in the air wildly.

"Tie her up, Kroi. I want her incapacitated when we land."

Kroi grunted. Still gripping her wrists, he knocked her feet out from under her and she fell hard, crashing to the floor with a yelp. The man stepped over Linka's body and straddled her, before flipping her roughly onto her stomach.

"Leave her alone, you bastards," Wheeler gasped. He wrenched his arm free and landed a heavy punch to Bleak's cheek; his gaze not leaving Linka's frightened face.

Bleak's retaliation was severe. Linka's eyes widened in terror as she saw Wheeler struggling against Bleak's efforts to subdue him. Plunder's right-hand man landed several blows to Wheeler's ribs and face. She began to cry again as Wheeler finally slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"WHEELER!"

She sobbed as Kroi tied her wrists behind her back, before moving on to her ankles. The room was now silent, save for her own ragged breathing. She was effectively on her own with them.

She moaned as Bleak circled the floor, wiping blood from his mouth. He straightened, giving Wheeler a final kick to the ribs for good measure. Reverting to her mother tongue, she gasped and begged, crying out to Wheeler, pleading with him to wake up but he remained still.

Kroi’s interest was piqued, however. He paused for a moment, listening to his captive with a dawning realisation of her heritage. He swivelled around with a smirk and lowered his head, pressing his lips against her ear.

" _Bol'shoy osel,_ " he whispered, running his hand down the back of her jeans and squeezing her bottom. Linka's blood ran cold and she shook her head, trying to wriggle away from him. Kroi gripped her arms, dragging her to her feet and lifting her effortlessly. She struggled as he tossed her over his shoulder like a rag doll.

Kroi turned and strode out of the kitchen. Linka's body lurched with the movement. She pulled herself up, still shrieking Wheeler and Ma-Ti's names as she was hefted past them. She lost sight of her friends as Kroi turned the corner. He increased his pace, hurrying down the corridor and was soon joined by Doctor Blight.

"Got the right ring?" Argos Bleak had caught up and was a few steps behind her. The lights flickered and dimmed, no doubt due to the vortex currently draining most of Nevada's power.

"Blue wavy lines," she muttered. "I'm going on a hunch here, but I think it's safest to stay physically connected when we go through."

"You're the doctor, Doctor," Bleak bit back sarcastically, glancing up at the distraught little blonde Planeteer bouncing around on Kroi's shoulder.

Doctor Blight opened the lab doors and a deafening roar filled their ears. Linka recoiled, hyperventilating now as she glimpsed her first look at the spinning, sucking silvery _thing_ taking up half the floor of Blight's lab. Flashes of light flickered and the kinetic energy it was drawing was frightening. Papers and lab equipment were flying across the room and had subsequently turned into mini-missiles.

Bleak locked the lab doors behind him and pushed a table against it to avoid any unwelcome guests. A bunsen burner impacted with his bald head and he shouted out in pain, cursing loudly. Blight narrowly avoided colliding with a partially empty bottle of white vinegar. She side-stepped it, before reaching up and tugging Linka's pony-tail with a triumphant look on her face.

"Cheer up, sweetheart," Blight yelled, grinning at the hysterical girl and struggling to be heard over the roar of the vortex. "You're about to make history!"

Kroi dropped her heavily to the ground and she overbalanced, tipping forward. Kroi kept an arm fixed securely around her waist and she began to moan in fear. Awareness flooded through her that these individuals, for reasons unknown, were intent on sending her through the gaping hole twisting and seething some six feet from where she was standing.

The last thing Linka saw were Kwame and Gi's faces appear in the small windows above the lab doors. Their horrified expressions mirrored her own as she was half-dragged, half-lifted towards the edge of the vortex.

"NOW!"

Blight's voice triggered a combined movement. Linka felt herself wrenched backwards and she locked eyes with Kwame from across the room. She gave a final panic-stricken scream before falling, disappearing into the abyss with her captors.

And then her world faded to black.


	9. Chapter 9

_They were alerted to trouble the moment the gunshot had gone off. Gi flinched, raising her eyes to Kwame's and they both broke into a run, traversing the maze of corridors and dead ends._

_Linka's screams soon filled the air and they arrived at the lab just in time to see her dragged backwards into the void. Kwame stood, horrified as Gi had pounded on the windows, screaming her friend's name._

_The vortex immediately shrunk back in on itself, decreasing until it had become a small beam of light rising in the air between the floor and the laser above. Rays of white light flickered and_ _eventually dispersed._

_Kwame bellowed for Gi to get down, shoving her to the ground and covering her body with his own as the shock wave hit them._

_The explosion was extreme. It blew the roof off the lab complex and sent debris scattering in all directions. The lab doors buckled and blew off their hinges, crashing into the wall opposite, narrowly missing them. The heat was unbearable. The lab was on fire, completely destroyed._

_Gi stood on shaky legs, tears streaming down her face as she used her ring to extinguish the flames, searching through the debris in vain. There was no sign of any of them. Defeated, she slumped against the wall, hugging her knees and sobbing quietly._

_Kwame's first instinct was to continue the search for Linka, but the smoke and heat billowing out meant that simple task was impossible. Even though his brain refused to accept the phenomenon he had witnessed, he knew what he had seen._

_Linka was gone._

_He left Gi and raced to find the others. Kwame was numb, running on automatic. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins; his face a mask of grief and shock._

_Kwame found them in the kitchen. Turning the corner, he spotted Wheeler first; sprawled and bloodied beside the bench-top. His face was swollen, his lip cut in two places, but he was stirring. Alive._

_Kwame located Ma-Ti and dropped to his knees beside him. A significant amount of blood had pooled on the floor beside his leg and it took Kwame several moments of investigation to realise he'd been shot. He quickly removed his shirt, applying a tourniquet to help stem the bleeding. It was a flesh wound, but Ma-Ti seemed to be stable._

_The distant drone of sirens was audible as Kwame placed his hand on his unconscious friend's forehead; noting more blood dripping from his temple. He was honestly at a loss._

_"They were after her."_

_A rasping voice came from behind him and Kwame turned, observing Wheeler's sluggish attempt to sit up. Wheeler seemed disorientated, unsteady._

_"Bastards wanted her all along. She all right?"_

_Kwame slumped. He sunk down onto the tiles, one hand steadying himself while the other rubbed his over-wrought face. He shook his head, not knowing where to begin._

_"Where is she?" Louder now, Wheeler was on his feet. He stumbled, clutching the counter for support as he stared at Kwame. "What happ —"_

_"She's gone, Wheeler."_

_Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kwame sagged against the wall, watching his friend's face pale; eyes wide and uncomprehending. Disbelieving. Wheeler turned, clutching his ribs and staggering out the door in search of Linka._

_Kwame stared ahead, barely noticing Wheeler's quick exit._

_"I'm so sorry. She's gone."_

* * *

**One week later**

A knock issued from outside, soft but insistent.

"Wheeler? Are you in here?" A wet sniff, then the shuffling of feet. "Wheeler, please. I need… I need to speak to you. Can I come in?"

_Gi._

He ignored her, just as he had yesterday, and the day before. He knew she just wanted comfort. A hug, some reflective words. Reminiscing about the good ol' days. Some cheering up. An opportunity to express herself, to grieve the loss of her friend.

Wheeler wasn't having a bar of it.

He'd shut them out completely since _that day._ As far as he was concerned, they could all fuck right off. Dropping his face into his palms, he did his best to rub away the persistent headache that had plagued him since her loss.

_Her loss._

Wheeler leaned back, bitterly aware of the irony of that statement.

_Well, there's no body. Not like we can call it 'her death'._

But she was gone all the same. If the fall into Blight's spinning vortex of death didn't kill her, the fire in the lab sure as hell would have. Kwame had tried explaining the circumstances he'd witnessed to Wheeler after the emergency services had arrived, but by then he was so shell-shocked that it went in one ear and out the other.

The sound of departing footsteps broke the silence, heading back towards the common rooms. Gi had apparently given up.

He sighed, weary as he glanced out the window. All was quiet outside.

Rising to his feet, he stepped out of his hut, squinting at the harsh sunlight as he hurried towards the only place that held any solace for him at present. Slipping inside Linka's hut, he sank to the floor beside her bed, still neatly-made.

The blue floral cami-set lay peeking out from under her pillow and he reached for them, leaning his head against the mattress and inhaling her scent off the cotton. He felt a sharp stab of grief threaten to overwhelm him and he forced it back, wiping his face with the inside of his arm.

He'd been spending a lot of time here. It was the only way he could still be close to her. Wrapping his arms around his knees, Wheeler rested his head against her quilt and closed his eyes.

_I should have told her._

Suddenly the years of shameless flirting seemed like a missed opportunity that he would never gain back. The chance was gone. He'd blown it on cocky ramblings and playful teasing; behaviour that had masked the truth that he'd been frightened to admit to himself, let alone to her.

_I was in love with her._

With a heavy sigh, he distracted himself for a while with the contents of her bedside table. Alarm clock, phone charger, photo frame. He reached forward and grasped the pewter jewellery box sitting at the back edge. Placing it in his lap, he opened the lid and ran his fingers over the assortment of pieces inside. Rarely wearing costume jewellery, Linka had a small collection of silver rings and pendants, many passed down from her mother.

The thought occurred to him that the heirlooms would need to be returned to her family.

The inside casing shifted slightly and he frowned, realising that the box had a second level. He pulled the top tray out and peered into the base.

Wheeler pulled out a few items. A tattered newspaper clipping. He couldn't read it but recognised her surname in the Russian script near the top and dates/times towards the middle. A photo of a middle-aged man.

_Her father's funeral notice._

A ticket stub, again in Russian with a symbol of a ballet dancer in the bottom-left corner.

A wedding photo; undated and very faded but so obviously her parents. She'd rarely spoke of them. In fact, this was the first time he'd even seen them. Posing stiffly with serious expressions for the camera, Wheeler ran his thumb over the surface. Linka had been the spitting image of her mother.

The last object was another ring, kept seperate from the valuable silver on the top level - chunky grey plastic with a pink fake stone. Completely tacky, it looked like something that had come out of a kids vending machine. He narrowed his eyes, holding the gaudy object up to the light, wondering why on earth Linka would have kept such a weird trinket.

_Because I gave it to her._

And then it hit him. Like a tonne of bricks, the memory came flooding back.

Christmas dinner; a rather large, raucous affair around two years ago in London. He'd shared a Christmas cracker with Linka and the ring had been the prize within the centre. Never wanting to miss an opportunity for mischief, he'd dropped down to one knee in front of the mortified girl and 'proposed' to her in front of their fellow Planeteers and a number of foreign dignitaries.

Linka had blushed deep red as he'd slid the ring onto her finger. With bawdy shouts of "kiss her" ringing in the back ground, Wheeler had leaned in and given her a quick peck on the cheek.

Wheeler had always assumed she'd flung the ring to the furtherest reaches of the earth once it had left her finger. He remembered her embarrassment, taking it all in good humour but barely able to look anyone in the eye for the rest of the night.

But here it was, along with her most precious memories.

Wheeler hung his head, clutching the ring tightly and feeling tears welling in the corner of his eyes. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

He broke down, sobbing quietly into his hands.

* * *

  **Two weeks later**

Those last few seconds in the lab continued to haunt him. Kwame had awoken every morning since that day to the sound of Linka's screams. He'd always wake drenched with sweat, his body tense and heart pounding and this morning was no exception. The image of her face, twisted in fear as she disappeared into the void was now permanently imprinted on his mind.

He sat up, pulling his knees up and clutching the sheets, trying to control his breathing. The nightmares were vivid and unrelenting. Kwame rubbed his neck and gazed out the window. The sun was rising and it looked to be another beautiful day. He would usually already be up, tending to his garden, or baking bread in the kiln. A morning swim occasionally would be slipped in, depending on time.

But today - just as he had in the two weeks since Linka had been taken from them, Kwame's morning routine was altered. Sinking back against the pillows, he turned onto his side and breathed out, feeling the monumental weight and responsibility pressing down on him: that as their leader, he had failed her.

He knew he wasn't the only one who shared this view.

_Gaia._

Gaia, who for all of her knowledge on the present and ability to see into the future - evidently she hadn't seen this major upheaval coming. She had been blind-sided and left reeling. They had questioned the Earth Spirit upon their return, desperate for answers but it appeared she was as lost as the rest of them.

_"I… I'm so sorry, Planeteers. She's passed beyond my field of vision."_

_"What the fuck does that even mean?"_ Wheeler had exploded. _"Where the fuck is she? Is she dead?"_

A tear had tracked down Gaia's cheek as she held his gaze. _"I don't know, Wheeler. I don't know. I didn't foresee any of this."_

Kwame rolled onto his back, frowning up at the ceiling as his thoughts turned to the others.

Gi was inconsolable. She spent a lot of her time on the beach, sitting in the sand and staring out at the ocean. Sometimes Gaia would join her.

Ma-Ti was quiet. Reflective. The blow to the head had left him with some memory loss and he was utterly stunned to find out the sequence of events. He'd been discharged from hospital last week and was dividing his time between Kwame and Gi, offering quiet comfort.

Wheeler was an absolute mess. He'd locked himself away and refused to speak to anyone in the days following.

Kwame sighed and forced himself up from the mattress. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and padded outside, treading the familiar path towards the kitchen.

Entering, he was surprised to find Wheeler perched on a stool, his shoulders slumped and thick stubble covering his face and neck. His travel bag lay propped-up beside him and his fire ring was clutched between his fingers.

Kwame opened his mouth and closed it again. He knew what was about to go down.

"I can't stay," Wheeler said softly, meeting Kwame's eyes. He shook his head wearily. "I'm done."

Kwame breathed out slowly and nodded. "I think we all are."

The red-head reached out, passing his ring to Kwame's outstretched fingers and stood awkwardly. He held out his hand but Kwame ignored it, pulling him in for a hug instead. They embraced for a few moments before stepping away, composing themselves.

Wheeler bent down, grasping the handle of his bag and tossing it over his shoulder.

"Are you going to say goodbye to the others?"

Wheeler shook his head, gazing down at his sneakers and looking slightly ashamed. "Tell em' when I get myself together, I'll be in touch."

Kwame nodded. He raised his hand as Wheeler turned and departed, heading for the Crystal Chamber, no doubt where Gaia would be waiting for him.

He leaned against the fridge, glancing down at Wheeler's ring as the overwhelming truth bore down on him.

The Planeteers were indeed over.

* * *

**Five weeks later**

The cafe was crowded for a typical Friday lunch. A Japanese "Sushi-Train" style establishment in the centre of Seoul's business district, people had descended quickly during the daily lunch break rush-hour.

Gi sat squeezed between her parents, staring at the dishes as they passed her on the conveyor belt.

_For marine biologists, they certainly eat a lot of fish._

She sighed, reaching for a plate of avocado rolls as it bobbed past her.

"You are not eating enough, _Gi-Yeobo"._

The girl shrugged, her shoulders hunched as she took a bite of her food. Gi felt her mother's hand rest between her shoulder blades, rubbing in gentle circles and the girl leaned in instinctively.

"I miss her," she whispered. She leaned back as her father reached across for a plate of salmon, feeling his knee bump against her leg.

"Your friend will always live on in your memory, Gi," her father spoke. He smiled, pinching her nose with his chopsticks. "Linka would be proud of the work you will do here with us."

They ate in silence for a while, finishing their meals before departing the cafe together. Gi stood on the street, clutching her arms about her as her father hailed a taxi and helped her inside.

The ride home to their waterfront estate took ten minutes. They alighted, her parents walking ahead and talking quietly to one another. Gi overheard the word _counsellor_ and her eyes narrowed in frustration. They had barely let her out of their sight since her return back home. They had always had the tendency to be a little over-bearing.

She climbed the stairs to the attic where her room had remained much the same as when she left. Sprawling out on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling before reaching for the photo album on her bedside table and leafing through the pages.

Gi's phone buzzed beside her and she dropped the album onto the floor. Her heart lifted upon seeing the caller ID.

"Hey, creep."

"Hey, mermaid. How's things?"

She scoffed, turning onto her side. "Mum and Dad are two steps away from moving me into their bedroom. I'm okay. How are you?"

"Gettin' there," he said softly. "Doin' all right, I guess. Heard anything from Ma-Ti?"

"I think he's out of range, now."

"Okay."

She bit her lip. "Are you going to the public memorial?"

"Are you?"

"I asked you first," she said, a smile in her voice

He sighed. "In all honesty, I don't know. I'm not keen. The last few weeks have already been a media circus."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Kwame suggested we skip it and do something ourselves. More private."

"All right. I'm good for that."

"Wheeler?"

"Yeah?"

"You sure you're okay?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Gi twisted the phone cord between her fingers as she waited.

"I'm survivin'."

She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"I can't…" he started, forming his words carefully. "I can't stop thinkin' about that day. She was so scared, Gi. They were after Linka, specifically. I couldn't stop em'."

Gi closed her eyes. Ma-Ti had no memory of the incident and Wheeler had refused to speak about it until now.

"It's not your fault," she began, feeling the lump in her throat rising again.

"That's the hardest thing, I think. I was right there and I couldn't keep her safe. And the way that animal was lookin' at her… I just…" A shuffling noise distracted him on the other end of the line and Gi waited patiently, hearing another voice in the background. "Gi, I gotta go. Mom needs the phone."

"All right." She smiled. "Good to hear your voice, Pyro. Take care of yourself."

"You too, hon."

The phone clicked, replaced by the dial-tone. Gi laid back against her pillows, reflecting on her short conversation and agreeing with one of Wheeler's statements.

They were all just surviving now.

* * *

 

**End of Part One**

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

A momentary loss of consciousness.

The sensation of floating and a bright flash of light.

Travelling but not moving. Noise but no sound. A sense of wakefulness and the sudden realisation that gravity had kicked in. Momentum was gained and she was pushed forth, hurtling towards her destination.

Linka screamed out as she was flung violently through to the other side. Landing on her back, Kroi's body partly cushioned her fall as she slammed into him.

She bounced off and rolled face-first into the dirt, winded. Groaning in pain, Linka clenched her fists; still bound together behind her back. A low roar penetrated her ears and a constant blast of gritty sand assaulted her. Sand blew into her mouth; the strong gale causing the Linka's loose tendrils of hair to whip wildly around her head.

A sharp pain registered in her forehead and her body ached. The taste of blood in her mouth was present: she'd bitten her tongue during the landing.

Taking a deep, gasping breath, her eyes widened in fear as she struggled to draw enough oxygen into her lungs. Panic had by then taken over as she curled into a ball, wheezing and choking as her lungs struggled to function in this strange environment.

Blight and the others were experiencing the same side effects; coughing and groaning around her. She opened her eyes, gasping and viewing her surroundings as if through a filter. The air was tinted a murky brown colour and visibility was limited; however the distant view of a cityscape was apparent through the haze.

Linka rolled over with a whimper, drawing her knees up and blinking at the wide expanse of sky above her. Normally a crystal blue, the heavens were instead a light shade of grey. It was as if the spectrum of colours didn't exist here.

"Fuck! What the fuck, Blight?"

Argos Bleak was on his feet, stumbling and disorientated. He sunk to his knees again and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the ground with his arms outstretched.

Blight didn't answer: she was still lying spreadeagled where she had landed. Her chest also heaved with the effort of drawing breath.

Linka took advantage of their distraction and straightened her body, beginning to roll away from them at high speed. Her heart pounded as her breath came in ragged gasps; a single-minded determination to get as far away from them as possible.

" _Kuda ty idesh, malyshka_?"

" _Nyet!_ " Linka shrieked, sobbing as Kroi grasped her ankles and forcibly dragged her back towards the group. She lashed out at him, fear turning into fury at her current predicament. Her bound feet impacted hard against his thigh as she spat a number of Russian expletives at him. Kroi hauled her forward, crouching down and straddling her hips again, gripping her throat with his meaty hand.

"Get off me!" she choked, tears stinging her eyes as she struggled underneath him. " _Ublyudok!"_

Kroi grunted, sinking his fingers deeper into her neck as he caught his breath. With her hands still bound behind her, Linka had no choice but to stop struggling. She turned her head, crying softly as she was pulled to her feet and hoisted over Kroi's shoulder again.

By now, Bleak had recovered and was on his feet, gazing around with a bewildered expression on his face. Doctor Blight was also upright, her hand on her hip and the other shielding her face from the constant stream of grit.

They set off and headed in the direction of the city, a mere shadow on the darkening horizon.

* * *

It was apparent to Blight that she and Bleak were not going to see eye to eye on things. It was also apparent that the mercenary hadn't been clued into the major details of this 'little' job.

"Where the hell are we?"

"How should I know?" Blight bit back, her voice muffled by the sleeve of her blouse.

She was weary now. The lack of oxygen content was severe, seriously impeding their energy levels. They had eventually removed items of their clothing to wrap around their mouths, shielding them from the sand constantly blowing in their faces.

A gag had also been placed around Linka's mouth, although it was more to stem her incessant pleading for answers rather than showing a regard for her welfare.

Bleak pointed towards the towering skyscrapers ahead, fixing Blight with a glare. "Is that where we're going?"

"Does it look like I know where I'm going? I'm as clueless as you are!"

"Are you kidding me!" Bleak exploded, throwing his hands in the air. "Surely you looked up the damn coordinates before you took us on this little joyride?"

"Of course I did," Blight replied, but even she sounded uncertain. "I assumed it was LA."

"This sure as shit ain't LA," he muttered under his breath, surging ahead of the group and cursing to himself. "I swear to God, you'd better have a way of getting us back home or I'll.…"

"Don't threaten me, you two-bit…"

"Shut up!" he bellowed, kicking the ground in fury. "It didn't occur to you to bring any weapons, Blight?"

She rolled her eyes, clutching the shirt against her face as another gust of wind blew debris into the rag-tag travellers. "Guns wouldn't survive the transition. The gunpowder would ignite… along with the rest of us."

"Well, that's just fucking great," Bleak snapped. "That's just great."

Linka raised her head, blinking sleepily as she listened to the bickering pair continue to yell at one another, their voices echoing throughout this… wherever this was. The blood had pooled in her head due to being upside down for so long and her breathing was noisy, rattling in her chest. Both conditions had placed her on the verge of unconsciousness and at this point in time, she was beyond caring.

Kroi's movements slowed. He was struggling to bear her weight any longer. He called out to the others and they stopped, glancing back with irritation as he man-handled Linka back down to the ground.

" _Ty gulyayesh_ ," he said, pulling a switchblade from his pocket and holding it a mere inch from her nose. Linka winced, biting down on the gag as he dropped to his knees and cut the bindings around her ankles. He left the wrist restraints on, however. Rising unsteadily to his feet, Kroi waved the knife in her face. " _Vedi sebya khorosho, malyshka._ "

_Behave yourself, little girl._

Frightened, Linka kept her eyes trained on the ground as he swivelled her around and shoved her forward. She stumbled but remained upright, flexing her fingers behind her and following Blight and Bleak's figures as they trudged just ahead of her, still yelling bitterly at one another.

She lowered her head as her thoughts turned to her friends and their current welfare. The image of Kwame and Gi's distressed faces at the window were still etched in her memory.

_Do they think I am dead?_

Blinking back tears, Linka found herself craving their love and support more than ever as the harsh realisation of her situation settled over her.

She was powerless, ring-less and utterly on her own.

* * *

 

At least an hour had passed. As if the sand storm wasn't enough, discarded trash had been added to their ever-increasing list of challenges. Debris flew past at high speeds and the four travellers were unwittingly stuck playing a twisted version of dodgeball.

Paint cans, plastic wrappers, wire fencing, faded childrens' play equipment… Kroi had narrowly avoided a collision with a twisted piece of aluminium. Perhaps once belonging to the fender of a car, it had tumbled past loudly, spinning and tumbling along the ground.

Her three captors proved to be distracted by the obstacles. Linka lowered her chin to her chest, attempting to use her shoulder to nudge the gag free. After several attempts she succeeded. It hung loosely around her chin and she raised her head, seeking out Blight's figure through the haze.

"Why did you bring me here?" Linka's voice sounded braver than she felt but she had questions that needed answering. She called out to Blight again, her voice carrying over the wind as Blight paused and turned to scrutinise her carefully. "What have you done?"

"I'm just following orders, sweetheart," Blight replied. A coughing fit left her unable to clarify things further as the scientist doubled over, clutching her chest. "Why's it so damn hard to breathe here?"

"Where is here?" Linka pleaded regardless, her voice rising in pitch as she struggled to maintain pace with Blight as she continued onwards. "What was that thing in your lab?"

"A wormhole. Something your primitive little mind would struggle to comprehend."

Linka stumbled again as a faded fuel canister blew under her feet. She tripped and shrieked as she fell to her knees. The uneven ground pierced the denim of her jeans and she winced, gritting her teeth against the pain. Blight watched as the fuel can tumbled away, bouncing along the dry ground until it disappeared from sight.

"A wormhole to where?" Linka cried. "Where are we? This is not Los Angeles." She remained slumped on the ground, refusing to move. The rational side of her brain was spitting out theories. The logical side of her mind was considering their location, based on the terrain and the distant city ever-present in the background.

_A portal._

_She's built a portal._

_Linking two locations._

_We've travelled between them._

_Nairobi? Tanzania?_

Linka took a shuddering breath and leaned back on her heels, watching as Blight continued on without her.

"You owe me an answer."

"I don't owe you shit," Blight snapped back. "You brats have caused enough issues for me over the -"

"Then you can leave me behind," Linka shot back. She sat down and crossed her legs, knowing the others were as depleted of oxygen as she was. Kroi was a fair distance behind them and Bleak looked in particularly bad shape, coughing and wheezing loudly. "You have my ring. Just leave me. I will not go any further."

"Oh, for God's sake," Blight muttered. She stopped, crossing her arms in front of her as she glared at the blonde. "The aim was to travel eleven years in the future. Happy?"

"What?" Linka spluttered, gaping at Doctor Blight. She was left utterly dumbfounded by the confession. The concept of time travel hadn't even occurred to her. "Future? You have brought me to the future?"

"By my calculations, yes. Eleven years. And my calculations are usually accurate."

Blight ambled towards Linka. Only her eyes were visible and they were cold, devoid of feeling. She smirked, motioning to the terrain surrounding them. "I will admit I was expecting things here to look a little more _modern._ Floating cars, hover-boards and the sort. This was unexpected."

"How do we get home?" Linka asked, her voice trembling as Blight finally reached her. The doctor crouched down in front of her, hooking her finger delicately under the gag and pulling sharply. Linka lurched forward with a gasp, now eye to eye with the mad scientist. "How do I get back?

"Oh darling," she said in a low voice, releasing the mouth gag. Blight patted the side of Linka's face in a condescending manner. "You know as well as anyone that I never think that far ahead."

The blood drained from Linka's already pale face. "What?"

Blight smirked, rising to her feet and wandering away with a dismissive wave. "I just wanted to see if it could be done."

Cold fury washed over Linka. The knowledge boiled away at the surface; that she was stuck here indefinitely, never to see her friends and her family again.

All because of this embittered husk of a woman.

A rush of adrenaline surged through Linka, her anger flaring to massive proportions. Clenching the fists still tied behind her back, she stumbled to her feet and ducked low, shrieking as she charged towards Doctor Blight's retreating figure.

Blight was sent sprawling to the ground with a surprised yelp. Linka gave her no time to recover, drawing her foot back and kicking her repeatedly, unleashing her rage and resentment. An arm wrapped around Linka's waist and she was dragged away, feet flailing and crying.

"Shut up!" Bleak barked, an edge of panic evident in his voice. His free hand clapped over Linka's mouth, her breath tickling his palm and he twisted, eyes narrowed and searching. "Shut the fuck up. I heard something."

Blight had also stilled, watchful and wary as the distant sound of a truck rumbled nearby. The sound of mechanical brakes whining reached them, followed by silence again. The pervading orange haze hampered their view and they waited for what seemed like an eternity.

"Where is it?" Blight had raised herself into a sitting position, feet outspread in front of her. The altercation with Linka was already forgotten as she clutched the blouse tighter over her face against the strong gusts of wind. "Is it gone?"

"Where's Kroi?" Bleak looked back in the direction they'd just come, realising they were missing someone. "Kroi?"

There was no answer. Bleak squinted, seeing a dark shape lumbering towards them through the haze. The shape got larger and then veered off, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"Jesus," Bleak muttered, releasing his hold on Linka and shoving her onwards. "We gotta' keep movin'."

Blight pushed herself to her feet and hurried onward, casting nervous glances behind her every now and then. Another rumble of tyres, followed by footsteps. More shapes.

Fear settled over Linka. Her eyes darted left and right, her mouth hanging open despite the grit accumulating within.

"Untie me," she pleaded, falling into step with Blight. "Someone is here. Give me my ring."

"Not a chance, Blondie."

A strangled shout came from behind them and the women both turned. They heard a groan, followed by a dragging sound.

Bleak had now disappeared.

Linka let out a shuddering breath as another shape bobbed past. She ceased moving, standing with her head bowed as she flexed her bound wrists. There was no sense fighting what was coming. Whatever it was, it was inevitable and, in her current state, she was powerless to prevent it.

"Bleak?"

Blight looked truly worried. She took several steps forward, treading the sand slowly. She faded into the smog and Linka swayed slightly, her bottom lip trembling as she heard a sharp yelp eventually come from Doctor Blight's direction.

Linka kept her eyes trained downwards, her heart hammering in her chest as a shape approached. Its edges gradually gained definition and, through her lashes, Linka could see thick layers of clothing covering the body and head. Her rasping breath quickened as she noticed the breathing apparatus obscuring much of the face. She recoiled, stumbling backwards and unprepared for the second figure lying in wait behind her.

A quick movement of hands. The harsh, scratchy texture of hessian was forced over her head, rendering her blind. She heard the truck's engine turn over again, spluttering to life as she was lifted and man-handled into the tray of the vehicle.

Low voices and laughter were present; idle chatter, as if the occurrence of kidnapping four strangers was just so perfectly normal. Linka rolled onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut and flattening her cheek against the metal tray. She felt the vibrations of the engine through the hessian bag as she finally broke down: inconsolable, frightened and desperate for the presence of her friends.


	11. Chapter 11

"And why are you here, Bleak? What did she promise you?"

Linka was perched with her back against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she studied her cell-mate sulking on the other side. She vaguely wondered if she looked as bad as he did. Bleak's face and chest were smothered with a combination of dirt, blood and God-knows what else.

Glancing down at the condition of her own bare arms, she assumed the worst. The only clean spots were where the rope had once wrapped tightly around her wrists. Now free from her restraints, she ran her thumbs over the red, angry welts the bindings had left behind.

Bleak sat quietly, steadfastly ignoring her questions and glaring in the direction of the activity beyond the area they were contained in. A ramshackle structure, there were four cells - one taking up each corner, with a central area utilised by their captors. There appeared to be around six men in total, all involved in various tasks.

The central area was quite sparse, consisting of milk crates, broken plastic chairs and a filthy desk. A grungy couch in desperate need of a clean sat in the centre and three of their captors sat within it, free of their respirators and playing a rowdy game of cards to fill in the time.

A CB radio crackled away infrequently — attached to a car battery and perched in prime position on top of an old IBM computer. The monitor was empty: a gaping hole within that was filled with disposable cups and rubbish.

A collection of weaponry was lying around, including bayonets, bats, swords and knives. Linka's eyes kept gravitating nervously towards a machete propped up against the desk. She couldn't tell if the stains on the blade were from rust or blood. In all honesty, she didn't want to know.

Her eyes wandered in the direction of the other cells. There were three other people being held against their will, in addition to herself and her motley crew of time travellers. A middle-aged woman and two men, perhaps in their thirties, were being held in the cell opposite.

Linka was stuck in a cell with both Bleak and Kroi: the latter currently passed out on a pile of blankets in the corner adjacent to her. Blight was… she had no idea where Blight was. Linka had woken and there had been no sign of the scientist.

Her thoughts turned to the lunacy of the situation and a brief "Wheeler-ism" sprung to mind; unbidden and almost physically painful to behold.

_The captors have captured my captors._

Linka sighed heavily, wiping away a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheeks with the back of her hand. Wheeler's presence would have gone a long way in relieving her apprehension and fear. The talk with Kwame several days ago about Wheeler's behaviour seemed completely irrelevant and uncalled for now. She rested her chin on her arms, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself.

"Hey, you? Girl?" An American voice broke through her scattered thoughts and she glanced up in surprise. A man was holding onto a CB radio and pointing in her direction. "How old are you? Where are you from? Germany?"

Linka's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the stranger. Having removed his heavy clothing, he stood six feet tall; skinny with a rough beard covering his weather-beaten face and hard eyes.

" _Ja_ ," Linka said, not willing to give him anything pertaining to her background. " _Deutsche_."

"Huh?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice a little louder now.

"How old are you?"

Linka blinked, wondering what on earth these people were up to. "Twenty-three."

The stranger turned his back on her, murmuring quietly into the CB radio. Argos Bleak shifted from his spot on the floor, stretching and ironing out the kinks in his muscles.

"German," Bleak muttered, clearly amused by her little white lie. "They're scavengers, you know."

"What?"

Bleak leaned forward, his eyes never leaving the CB radio operator. "They're scavengers. They look for things of value and sell 'em. Trade 'em."

"How do you know that?" she asked softly, glancing in the direction of the cell opposite and the woman who had just started sobbing quietly within.

"Because," Bleak stated patiently, gesturing towards the makeshift communication hub, "they've just released your details over the radio. They're advertising you."

"WHAT!" Linka yelped, drawing the attention of the men playing cards nearby. They frowned at her, before settling back into their game again. "What do you mean, advertising me?"

Bleak shrugged. "I reckon they were only tailing us because they spotted you and Blight. You're both valuable to them."

"Valuable for what?"

Bleak shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, looking over her shoulder. "For whatever."

"Where is Blight?" she asked, confused. "I woke up here and she was…"

"The good doctor caused a bit of a fuss." Bleak glanced in the direction of one of the men on the couch. "Kneed one of 'em in the groin. Tried gouging another guy's eye out. I reckon she's in solitary confinement by now. Or in a ditch."

"And she has my ring," Linka said, shoulders slumped as she leaned back against the wall again. "Just wonderful."

Bleak grunted in response. "That ain't my problem."

"That IS your problem, Bleak," she hissed, glaring at him with contempt. "I cannot help but notice you seem to be as clueless about all of this as I am."

"So what," he snapped back. "I'm getting nearly a hundred thousand from Plunder to deliver you."

"What chance do you have of collecting it, if you are stuck here for good, Bleak?" Linka said with exasperation, pushing her hair off her face as she regarded him with a withering look. " _Pridurok_."

Bleak set his jaw, staring ahead with blazing eyes. Linka knew that she'd touched a nerve. She sighed, rubbing her face and grimacing at the layer of grime appearing on her fingers.

"Who were you delivering me to?" She frowned at him. "I have little chance of making it there anyway under current circumstances."

Bleak raised his hand to his head, running his palm over the smooth skin of his scalp as he processed her words. "Doctor Blight put in a request for you."

"I already know that," she said, frustration clouding her ability to respond without sarcasm. "I do not think she anticipated –"

"No. _Future_ Doctor Blight," he interrupted, gesturing around him. "Something about a message on a mirror during one of our Blight's earlier time jump attempts. Future Blight gave our Blight all the data she was missing and asked for you specifically. That's all I know."

"Me? What would she want with -"

She didn't get to finish. Linka and Bleak froze as the door they'd been brought through the night before was slammed open. Papers and light objects were launched into the air, scattering throughout the holding area as another two individuals were dragged through.

Two men; one unconscious, the other putting up one heck of a fight. They were tossed into an empty holding cell and locked in, the conscious prisoner screaming and hollering at the top of his lungs.

Linka rose slowly to her feet, gripping the bars within her hands and pressing her forehead between them. She held her breath, watching on as one of their captors swore loudly, grabbing a baseball bat and pointing it in the direction of the troublemaker.

A cold chill ran through her body. Linka heard the rattle of the cell door; the high-pitched pleading and the sickening impact of metal crunching against flesh, followed by a heavy _thump_.

Linka staggered away, her hands shaking as she flattened them against the wall. She slid down onto the cement floor and huddled in the corner, weeping as Bleak looked away, muttering something derogatory about Blight under his breath.

She wept quietly for a while, wiping her face with the back of her hands. Another rowdy card game had resumed; the players sharing around tinned food. The smell of cooked meat wafted past and her stomach growled accordingly. She was starving.

Linka sighed, eyeing Bleak again. The information she'd received earlier floated through her mind and she considered the details carefully.

The semantics of their situation confused Linka. If the four of them (including Blight) had travelled through time, how could a future version of Blight exist here too? It didn’t make any sense.

Were the other Planeteers somewhere here too? The possibility reassured her somewhat.

Darkness was descending and Linka's eyes were becoming heavy. She blinked, weary now as several kerosene lanterns and candles were brought in and set up on the surfaces around the central area. A small fire was burning in a metal drum that had been dragged into the centre of the room. She reached for a blanket, tossing it loosely around her shoulders as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

_Do they not have electricity here?_

Other small details emerged: details that she hadn't noticed until now. No cell phones were present. No refrigerator. No television. No working computers. Nothing.

She dropped down onto her side and laid her cheek on her arm, pondering this discovery with growing unease. Slipping into an unsettled sleep, Linka was unaware of Kroi's quiet observation of her; his eyes narrowed and gleaming in the firelight.

* * *

Her eyelashes fluttered and she turned her head slightly, confused as she felt the scrape of cement against her stomach and cheek. She looked around blearily. Bleak was slumped against the wall in front of her and snoring softly. Her view of Bleak was gradually diminishing, however. The singlet she was wearing dragged up under her breasts with the sudden movement of her body, and it took Linka a moment to register that something was very wrong.

_Kroi._

Flinging her hands forward, she flattened them against the floor and tried to drag herself away. She didn't make it far as large hands gripped her thighs. Linka was hauled back towards him, her fingernails clawing the cement desperately. Her hips were lifted until her bottom half lay draped over his lap. She felt Kroi's torso settle between her legs and the bottom of her stomach dropped away in fear.

Linka reacted violently. She tried to fight him off, flailing and thrashing beneath him, reaching around blindly to pinch, scratch and slap him away. She opened her mouth to scream but he had anticipated this too, wedging his hand tightly between the floor and her mouth. He leaned forward until his body was fully extended over Linka's; the weight of his crotch pressing into her bottom and effectively pinning her into place.

She sobbed against his palm and Kroi responded by digging his fingernails painfully into her flesh, leaving indents along her jawline. He forcibly jerked her head to the side and brought the other hand to her eye level, ensuring she could see the switchblade clutched tightly within. Her glance darted towards the main area utilised by their captors and she saw with dismay that it was empty.

Kroi placed the weapon just out of her reach, keeping his other hand firmly over her mouth to prevent her from crying out. He ground himself against her, running his free hand over her body in a manner that made her skin crawl with disgust. He gripped the elastic band holding her hair up and tugged it free, trailing his fingers through her thick hair and smoothing the strands out over her back. It was a gentle action that certainly didn't suit the situation. Almost loving — until Kroi tightened his grip and jerked her head back painfully.

She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks but the sound was muffled against his hand as she struggled beneath him. Breathing heavily, Kroi buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath hot and wet on her skin. His free hand forced itself beneath her body and worked to unbutton the top of her jeans.

_Oh nyet, oh pozhaluysta, nyet._

Linka's fear had graduated to terror. She retaliated with the only weapon she had left at her disposal. Raising her hands, she gripped Kroi's forearm — gouging her nails into his skin. He grunted, relaxing his grip over her mouth for a moment. She followed the movement of his withdrawing arm and leaned forward, sinking her teeth into Kroi's hand.

He bellowed, jerking his hand away and she dragged herself forward on her elbows, ragged gasps trembling from her lips as she reached out and grabbed the hem of Bleak's chino's.

"BLEAK!" she shrieked, not knowing if he would offer assistance — not knowing if he would care — but he was the only option she had. "HELP ME!"

Linka held tight to Bleak's ankle as Kroi dragged her back towards him again. Her cries had awoken their fellow prisoners in the other cells and their concerned shouts soon joined her own.

"Get OFF me," she sobbed, launching a vicious right kick that glanced off Kroi's collarbone.

Kroi lurched forward, furious now as he flipped her over, grabbing her by the face and slamming the back of her head into the concrete. Linka cried out in pain. Her body slumped with the impact as he bore down on her angrily, jostling her about and moving her into position. He dragged her jeans down and forced her legs apart while she was still incapacitated. Kneeling between her thighs, he fell on top of her with a groan, fumbling now with his own trousers.

Shouts. Angry tones. Kroi's body weight was suddenly gone as he was dragged away. She rolled over painfully, pulling her jeans back up and curling into a foetal position. A shoving match had ensued. She raised trembling hands, clutching her head and feeling wet blood on the pads of her fingers. The background noise seemed to acquire a distorted tone, lessening in volume until only the rapid pulse of her blood pumping was audible.

The jingle of keys somewhere in the distance. Random shapes and shadows as her eyes struggled to focus. Hands gripped under Linka's arms and she was hauled away into the far corner as the metal gate to their enclosure swung open.

Dazed, Linka opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and her head was pounding but she sensed there were men filing into their cell; batons and weapons raised. Kroi stumbled towards them, his blade in his hand as he bellowed at the intruders. He wasn't going down without a fight.

"Fuck. This ain't gonna' end well," Bleak muttered, still clutching Linka under the arms as he manoeuvred her away from the fray. "Damn idiot."

Linka huddled into the corner, curling her body as tightly as possible. She stared blankly at the wall, not seeming to take in the melee going on a mere few feet from her. She flinched as one of their captors hit the ground hard in front of her, courtesy of Kroi's meaty fist colliding with his cheekbone.

The scavengers eventually got Kroi under control and he was manhandled out of their cell, screaming obscenities and threats that only Linka could understand. He disappeared into the darkness and Linka dropped her face into her hands, breaking down.

Bleak gritted his teeth, looking away from the window. He'd glimpsed a baseball bat brought down hard to the ground and he was under no allusions as to what was going on outside. Kroi had damaged their merchandise, and they were _pissed_.

"I want to go home," Linka cried. Her voice quivered with grief as she collapsed onto the concrete; dizzy and exhausted. "I cannot do this, I should not be here. I want to go home."

Bleak rubbed his face, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

"Don't we all, kid."


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey! You plannin' on feedin' us anytime soon?"

Bleak leaned against the metal bars of their enclosure with his arms crossed, eyeing the CB operator with disdain. Getting only a smirk in response, Bleak rolled his eyes and returned to sit in his spot adjacent to where Linka lay.

Her eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling across her like a persistent cloud, but she still couldn't bring herself to sleep. Linka's anxiety levels were justifiably through the roof. She had remained watchful and wary for the next few days. A dull throb still pulsed at the back of her head, courtesy of Kroi's rough treatment.

She stifled a yawn, rolling a loose thread from the blanket between her thumb and index finger. Time had become redundant. She knew this was the third day here. She had no concept of what time it was, only that her stomach was rumbling and the water they'd been given was an unfavourable shade of brown. Needless to say, the glass remained full.

The first night had been a close call. The attempted sexual assault hadn't been brought up again by either herself or her remaining cell mate. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them: an uneasy alliance forged through common bonds.

Kroi hadn't returned — there was no sign of him nor Blight. They had both simply vanished into thin air. There was nothing to do here but wait; nothing to escape the monotony except for the scheduled bathroom breaks and the odd crackle of the radio.

Linka had taken the opportunity to converse with the woman in the cell opposite. They had talked in low voices whenever the men guarding them had left; whether it was to relieve themselves outside or assist the others with mundane tasks. She had gleaned some valuable information in the time given.

They were definitely in what used to be a semi-rural area of Southern California. She and Bleak had also learnt that the US was now surviving "off the grid" in terms of electrical supply, and the distinct lack of municipal power didn't appear to be by choice. Something had occurred over the course of the eleven years, reducing civilisation to existing without the comforts of modern technology. This awareness was disconcerting, knowing that huge amounts of electricity had been drawn in order to power Blight's time machine.

Bleak had been especially pissed off when Linka had pointed this out to him. He'd sworn loudly; kicking the bars of their cage and causing one of their guards to stand and scowl, motioning towards the weapon fixed to his hip.

Ignoring Bleak's mutterings, Linka retreated within her pile of blankets; her eyes half-closed and doing her best to overcome the feelings of loneliness and despair.

"So, what's your story?"

Bleak sat with his arms balanced on his knees, his eyes narrowed as he waited for a response.

"What do you mean?" she asked tiredly. Even talking was an effort; her words tending to run into one another since she lacked the energy to articulate properly. "Do I have a story?"

"It's a fucking expression. Tell me about yourself."

Linka rolled her eyes. "You have never bothered to get to know any of us in the time we've spent chasing you down, Bleak."

"Well, it's the first time in seven years I've found myself in such close proximity to one of you."

Linka regarded him quietly, still distrustful. "I am Russian."

"No shit."

She made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "I am from a mining town near the Ural Mountains. _Sverdlovsk Oblast._ "

"Parents?"

" _Nyet_."

"Dead?"

Linka resettled herself on the ground, pulling the blankets tighter around her. " _Da_. Yes."

"How?"

Linka narrowed her eyes at him. "Why? Do you even care?"

Bleak shrugged his shoulders, an air of nonchalance surrounding him. "Not really, no. Just making conversation."

"Mama died of cancer when I was six. Papa was killed in a mining accident just before I received my ring." She rolled onto her back with a sigh, forgetting about the gash for a moment and wincing as the concrete pressed upon it.

Bleak grunted. "My parents are gone too."

"Why? Did they run away?" Linka muttered quietly, unable to help herself. Bleak didn't seem to notice.

"Mom overdosed on drugs while I was at boarding school." He frowned, evidently doing the sums in his head. "Twenty-five years ago, now. Never knew my father."

Linka raised her eyebrows, peering out at him from under her cocoon of blankets. "How did you end up working for Plunder?"

"Met him in a bar in the UK, goin' on twenty years ago. One of his guys tried to give me some attitude." Bleak smirked, recalling what was obviously a fond memory. "Threw the prick through a plate glass window. The boss hired me on the spot."

"Okay," Linka replied, somewhat perturbed. "That is charming."

"I fuckin' thought so." Bleak glanced towards the central area, before settling his gaze on Linka again. "So what do you eco-nerds do for kicks?"

Linka narrowed her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "Kicks? You are meaning what do we do in our spare time."

"Yes," he deadpanned slowly, and she huffed in response

"Normal things. We like to swim and hike. Watch movies. We each have our hobbies, I guess." Linka sighed, glaring at Bleak from beneath the covers. "Our free time seems to be on the decrease, lately."

"How's that workin' for ya?"

Linka gestured towards their surroundings with an indignant expression. "Evidently not very well, _mu'dak._ "

His lips curled into a hint of a smile. "So. You and Red?"

Linka scrunched up her nose in confusion. "I am sorry?"

"You and Red? Firebug? You two bangin'?"

"Banging?" Linka sat up and crossed her legs, unsure whether it was the tiredness effecting her ability to translate or whether Bleak was speaking another language entirely. "What does —"

"Jesus," Bleak moaned, craning his head back and gazing at the ceiling. "Are you and Pyro fuckin' each other?"

No!" Linka exclaimed, indignant and turning bright red. She looked away in embarrassment, pushing her hair out of her face. " _Nyet_ , we are not… we do not…"

"Coulda' fooled me." Bleak looked clearly surprised at her confession. "We all sort of assumed…"

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she hissed, mortified at the thought of eco-villains discussing her sex life. "I cannot believe you are —"

"What? Nothin' wrong with mixin' a little work with pleasure."

"Ugh." Linka dropped back onto the ground, turning her back on Bleak. "This conversation is over."

"Fine, Lil' Miss Prissy," Bleak muttered from behind her. "It's just pretty fuckin' obvious that the two of you —

He trailed off, his attention diverted as he stared down a small group of men who had trudged through the front entrance, dusting sand from their clothing and talking in low voices with the scavengers. Linka's gaze followed Bleak's. A trolley of goods were pushed through the door and deposited beside the couch.

Linka's breath caught as one of the newcomers turned and looked in her direction, before nodding to the man she assumed was in charge.

"Are they…" she said nervously, glancing in her cell-mate's direction. "Are they here for us?"

"Yeah," he replied. Cheery laughter echoed through the tin structure and he frowned, trying to get an angle on their intentions. "Looks like we're worth a few car batteries and some barrels of fuel."

"Bleak?" she whispered. Linka's face had turned white, suddenly apprehensive at the thought of moving on. "I do not like this…"

"I'll make you a deal, kid," he said, speaking in low tones since the buyers were now approaching their cell, having settled the payment. "If I'm feelin' that things are startin' to go south, I'll do my best to get us outta there. On the condition," he stressed, pointing his finger towards her with a sneer, "that we find your little buddies and the blue guy can get us home."

Linka nodded, her green eyes trained on the man who had initiated the exchange. She shuffled away quickly as the stranger reached the bars, crouching down so that he was at eye level.

"Hi," he said softly, pulling his hood away from his face. He wiped the lower half of his face and grinned at her apologetically. "Sorry. Occupational hazard these days. Sand here's a killer."

Linka stared at him in surprise. About six foot tall, with sandy hair and an engaging smile, he looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. Dimples were present on his cheeks and the man had green eyes that sparkled with vitality.

"You okay?"

Linka blinked, unaware that he'd still been talking. She nodded, watching as he turned and issued a sharp order. Their captors fell about locating the keys. The gate was unlocked and it swung open loudly. Linka scurried to her feet and hid behind Bleak's stocky frame. He had his arms crossed again and was eyeing them with a distinct look of distrust.

"It's all right. We've been sent to come get you. Your friends are waiting."

"My friends?" Linka asked sharply, peering around Bleak's shoulder. "My friends are here?"

"Yeah. My name's John Lambert. I work for the Department of Homeland Security… or what's left of it." The man produced an identity card and held it out in front of him. Linka stepped forward, still keeping some distance between them as she scrutinised the particulars. He winked, holding up his ring finger and pointing to it. "You missing anything?"

"Um, _da._ Blight has it… had it."

"Barbara Blight?"

Linka nodded, glancing at Bleak with a questioning expression, still grappling with getting a read on this person. Bleak shrugged, his hands deep within his pockets and watching the conversation like a hawk. John turned and conversed in low tones to the man in charge, who eventually pointed outside.

"C'mon," John said, extending his hand to Linka. "Let's go get your ring."

Linka opened her mouth and closed it again, eyes wide as she contemplated her next move.

"It's okay," John said patiently, wiggling his fingers with a grin. "Honestly, I'm not gonna bite. I know you've probably been through hell the past few days, but we're here to help."

She reached out and took his hand, trusting him to lead her out of the cell. Linka turned suddenly as the door closed behind her, keeping Bleak locked inside.

"Wait," she said, stalling and causing John to look back in confusion. She nodded in Bleak's direction. "He comes too."

"We only have instructions for you, hon," John said, staring at Bleak. "We've made the exchange for…"

"I am not leaving without him," she said. "You can —"

"Take him," one of the scavengers replied as he opened the gate again, beckoning for Bleak to move forward. "Consider him a freebie."

John looked mildly annoyed but nodded, following his group outside. He pulled Linka along after him, with Bleak trailing not far behind them.

* * *

" _Bozhe moy_ ," Linka gasped, shocked at the sight that greeted her. She clapped her hands to her mouth and turned away, feeling the blood rush to her face regardless of the cold gusts of air assaulting her skin and sending her hair flying in all directions. "Oh God."

Obviously an area designated for garbage, a variety of skip bins were arranged in a rough circle. Filled with broken wood, steel, and other paraphernalia, Barbara Blight's body lay crumpled at the base of one of them. Eyes wide open and staring lifelessly, her mouth echoing an eternal scream.

Linka shuddered, biting down on her fingers as her eyes darted around nervously. Her gaze met Bleak's and for the first time she could recall, he looked utterly shocked.

"Jesus," he hissed, staring at Blight's body and at the suited stranger currently rifling through the dead woman's pockets. "Fuckin' hell, Babs."

An object was tossed to John and he caught it with his free hand, passing it quickly to Linka and nodding in the direction of the building in front of them. "Wanna' give it a whirl?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She let go of him and turned, walking back numbly towards the building they had been held for the past few days. She stiffened as she passed another broken body, half buried in sand with only the back and arms visible. The baseball bat still lay discarded beside him.

_Kroi._

Linka clenched her fists, pushing her shoulder against the door and barging through. She was weak with hunger, thirsty and emotionally overwrought, glaring at the card players who had resumed their game. Ignoring the human misery going on around them. Making profit from other people's misfortune. Ignorant to their suffering. Trading lives for… whatever they fancied.

"WIND!"

The card players didn't know what hit them. Bellowing loudly, the scavengers were launched into the air, along with the entire side of the structure; the tin rattling and bowing due to the force of the impact. Their beloved deck of cards disappeared with them, tumbling out of sight and disappearing into the desert terrain.

She spotted movement behind her and she turned, spotting another guard barreling towards her. She raised her ring but John was already one step ahead of her, dispatching the threat with a left hook to the man's face.

Linka grabbed the keys from the desk and hurried towards the other cages, her fingers fumbling as she pushed different combinations into the locks until she found the right one. Twisting the key, she unlocked the gates one-by-one and swung them open, freeing the occupants who gave her a cursory glance before fleeing into the sand dunes.

She walked out, passing John and ignoring Bleak's barrage of questions aimed at their rescuers. None of it mattered. None of it. She just needed to find her friends.


	13. Chapter 13

Argos Bleak had always possessed a sixth sense for signs of impending trouble.

He was highly intuitive — much more intelligent than Looten Plunder ever gave him credit for. Street smart. Bleak could sniff out the truth. Judge the parameters and decide a course of action. He'd always had a knack for reading a situation and responding accordingly. A flick of the eyes, a hand movement that seemed off.

Four random guys, a frazzled blonde and himself; all tight and cosy inside an SUV, barrelling towards a destination unknown. Two in the front and four squeezed into the back, Blondie was practically sitting on the edge of his lap: squished between himself and the door. Her body sat stiff as a board, obviously as on edge as he was. She wasn't talking much, nodding every now and again and staring out at the brown blur of nothingness streaking past the windows.

Interactions with Linka in the past had been basic. He was used to seeing her all efficient and pristine — perfectly put together as she and her friends bulldozed their way through whatever schemes his acquaintances were cooking up.

Now — she looked terrible. Her hair was wild, hanging loose around her shoulders and brushing against his arms every time the car hit a pot hole. Streaks of blood were visible along the back of her head, matted in clumps and long-since dried.

Her face was filthy; the only clean spots on her cheeks courtesy of the tracks left by dried tears. Bloodshot eyes and hands tightly clutched within her lap, constantly running her thumb over her ring. Forehead pressed against the window and no doubt grimacing at the reflection that looked back at her.

They'd been driving for an hour or so now, on the outskirts of what Bleak assumed used to be the major hub of Los Angeles. Apartment complexes and high-rises had joined the landscape, lying empty and desolate. The windows were long-since shattered; tyres crunching over broken glass as the vehicle passed through. It was eerily quiet outside. Still.

Everything within the confines of the car seemed calm enough. The driver — John — was chatting away animatedly, passing over cans of soda and smiling a lot. The guy in the passenger seat with the over-sized aviator glasses looked to be in his thirties. Tall, well built and official-looking as well, Bleak recalled the name 'Luke' used during conversations.

Abbott and Costello sat to his left. Bleak didn't know their names, but one was skinny, one was obese and they both fancied themselves as comedians. Bleak sneered, rolling his eyes as 'Abbott' opened a can of drink, spraying bubbles over his neck and face.

"Sorry, man."

Bleak grunted, looking away as Linka quietly sipped her Coke. Leaning back against the seat, his eyes settled on the back of Luke's head. The top section of a tattoo was visible under the collar of his shirt and Bleak leaned forward, peering at it. Luke lurched slightly, bouncing with the motion of the car and giving Bleak a better look at the design. It looked familiar and his mind worked to recall where he'd seen it.

"Nice ink," Bleak said, doing his best to appear interested. "Good quality. How many you got?"

"Just the one," Luke said. "Fuckin' hurt like hell, too."

Bleak's eyes narrowed, regarding the tattoo with suspicion. A vertical figure-eight symbol overlaid with a horizontal one. Only the bottom branch was colored. Three small dots were marked below the symbol.

_Fuck._

His mouth went dry as he realised where he'd seen it. It was the icon designated to Blight's computer program. Plunder owned a copy and he'd watched his boss double-click on the icon several times, bragging about what he could access. Bleak's intuition was screaming at him as he considered the only implication that was available to him. He knew these people weren't who they claimed to be.

_They work for Blight. She sent them._

Bleak drew his mouth into a tight line and let out a heavy breath, glancing at the girl beside him. Her forehead was still pressed against the window and she appeared asleep; her steady breath fogging up the glass.

He nudged Linka with his elbow, trying to get her attention as discreetly as possible. She pitched forward; her body limp and unyielding against the seat belt wrapped around her mid section; chin resting against her chest. He nudged her again, harder this time but she remained motionless.

_Shit._

"She asleep?" John asked, checking on Linka's condition in the rear vision mirror. "Damn, that girl drinks slowly."

The others laughed and Bleak reached out with his arm, guiding her back against the seat. Her head tipped to the side and Bleak clenched his fists as Luke unbuckled his own seat belt and twisted around. He reached over between the centre console and grabbed Linka's hand, pulling the Planeteer ring from her finger and holding it up to his eyes, intrigued.

"All this effort for one little girl," Luke remarked, grinning at John and pocketing Linka's ring, before turning and glancing in Bleak's direction. "And who the hell are you? You weren't invited on this little road trip. You come through with her?"

"Yeah," Bleak spat. He motioned towards the unconscious girl beside him. "Unwilling participant. Why did you give her back the ring before if you were just gonna do this?"

John waved dismissively from his spot in the driver's seat. "The boss wanted to make sure it worked here before we delivered her. Give her a sense of security too, I suppose. Make her feel in control for a while."

"What if her ring hadn't…"

"Well," Luke turned around in his seat and grinned at Bleak, "let's just say you two would have become permanent residents under the sand dunes of that scavenger camp."

Bleak gritted his teeth at the unspoken inference. He nodded in Linka's direction.

"What did ya' give her?"

The clown beside him snorted. "That's on a need-to-know basis… and you sure as hell don't need to know."

"You work for Blight?"

John raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps. My friend asked who you were. I'll give you ten seconds to answer before we cave your skull in and throw you from the car."

Bleak glared at the jumped-up little shit smirking at him, itching to introduce John's face to his fist. "Argos Bleak."

"Never heard of ya."

"Fair enough," Bleak said, oddly relieved that he hadn't been recognised. "Plunder here?"

"Who?" Luke frowned. "What, you mean the pony-tail wearing freak?"

"Yeah?"

They all laughed, privy to a joke that Bleak obviously wasn't a part of. John gripped the steering wheel tightly as he took a swig from his can of drink. "Didn't the ol' girl throw him under the bus?"

"What?" Bleak barked, trying to keep up with the conversation. "You mean she turned him —"

"No," John said, slowing the car and manoeuvring his way through some debris. "She actually threw him under a fucking bus. Dude's dead. Just before everything turned to shit. Tried to walk away from an arrangement they had. Something like that, anyway."

"Ol' girl doesn't take well to the word _no_. Completely insane. Shoots down anyone who gets in her way. Blight rules most of central LA now. " Abbott grinned, leaning back and poking Linka on the shoulder. "This one has caused her a lot of sleepless nights over the years, I hear."

"Why? What's gonna happen to her?" Bleak motioned out of the car window towards a line of empty cars lying discarded by the side of the road. "What the fuck has happened here?"

"Not your concern," John said sharply. "You should be more worried about yourself, Baldy. She's not expecting you. I reckon your shelf-life has just about expired. Got a few questions for you, but we'll wait until we're at the compound. Don't wanna damage the upholstery."

Bleak narrowed his eyes, his mind working through various scenarios. He was outnumbered and woefully out of his depth. The cogs were already turning. Exit plans and defensive strategies. Sizing up the odds... and they weren't exactly in Bleak's favor.

"You got a portal up and running over there? Power?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" John retorted. "We don't even have working toilets."

The others sniggered, talking quietly amongst themselves as Bleak leaned back and rubbed his face. More debris appeared on the road in front and the vehicle swerved around them, causing Linka's head to loll against his shoulder.

If the alarm bells had kicked in earlier, they had now been turned up several notches, blaring at uncomfortable proportions. Future Blight obviously held a lot of control here. His boss was dead, killed by the Doctor's own hand. Unarmed and vulnerable, his only slim chance of returning was currently a dead weight pressed up against his arm, about to disappear into Blight's vault for good — along with himself.

He wasn't stupid.

These guys would eventually drill him for information and then kill him. He was just a spare tyre along for the ride.

He considered making a break for it. Reaching across Blondie's body, he tugged the door handle but the child locks had been activated.

Failing that, for the next hour or two Bleak sat quietly, crossing his arms and staring ahead at the crumbling buildings showing dimly through the haze outside.

Biding his time.

* * *

"We've got company," John said quietly, nodding towards the rooftops above. "You see 'em?"

The jovial mood of the vehicle shifted dramatically. They were alert now, eyes wide as they scanned their surroundings.

"What's that?" Costello leaned forward, pointing at a bulky shape blocking the road ahead. "Can we get around it? I swear, if this —"

"Shut up," John muttered, concentrating as he steered the vehicle over what used to be a kerb. The SUV bumped and lurched its way along the sidewalk and Bleak could see something on fire; burning away in the centre of what used to be a trendy LA street. No doubt once filled with traffic and designer store-fronts, now he saw only empty shells of buildings; warped street lamps and more sand.

Major bomb and grenade damage was evident. A violent battle had occurred here.

A loud pop exploded as something struck the car tyres. The car squealed to a sudden stop, causing the occupants to slam around like bowling pins. Bleak gripped the seat in front, craning his neck and trying to get a better angle on what was happening. Dark figures darted along the roofline of the building to his right. They jumped and wove with impressive speed, but were gone as quickly as they appeared.

He sunk back, glancing again at Blondie. The girl was beginning to stir. Her eyelids fluttered and she raised her fingers, as though swatting away invisible flies. He gripped her hand and shoved it back in her lap, distracted by the situation unfolding outside and not wanting to draw attention to the fact that the drugs were wearing off.

John swore, realising that the thoroughfare was indeed blocked by the smouldering car. He put the SUV in reverse and backed up in the direction he'd come, before turning down into a side street.

"Another one. Two-o-clock," Luke said, his voice tense and pointing again to the roof tops. "We need to get outta here."

"I know," John muttered. The grinding of metal replaced the engine noise as the tyre rims dragged against the ground; sparks flying in all directions. The rubber tread was flapping — they were sitting ducks. Bringing the car to a complete stop, he reached under the seat and withdrew a knife. "Get her outta the car. They know she's here."

"Blight's gonna slit our throats if we don't bring her back," Costello said, the fear in his voice evident. John and Luke stepped out of the vehicle, opening the door for Abbott and instructing Costello to keep an eye on their extra passenger.

Costello ducked down low into the seat, peering out the windows and unaware of the danger that lurked beside him. Luke and Abbott darted away, disappearing between the buildings with their weapons raised.

* * *

Linka rubbed her eyes. Her movements were sluggish. She raised her head, disoriented amongst the raised voices inside the vehicle. She'd been drifting in and out of the conversation for the last half hour, aware that something was wrong but still heavily sedated — feeling emotionally and physically detached from everything that was happening.

She knew the car had stopped. Doors soon slammed and angry voices cut through the air. Linka watched with mounting dread as John wrenched the door open. She shrank back against Bleak but was helpless to fight him off. John hauled her out by the ankles and she landed with a yelp, sprawled in the dirt.

John wrenched her upright and began dragging her away from the car. Her feet scraped and scuffed against the broken concrete as she tried to maintain her balance, fighting the nausea threatening to overcome her. John's arm wrapped tightly around her neck. Their feet stirred the dust as they circled slowly, and Linka could now feel the cold metal of a blade against her neck. More distant shapes darted amongst the shattered buildings.

"COME OUT WHERE I CAN SEE YA!" he bellowed, pressing the blade tighter against her throat. "YOU LITTLE BASTARDS ARE AN INCH AWAY FROM TOTAL EXTINCTION!"

Linka's moaned, clawing at the arm cutting off the circulation to her lungs. The wind was whipping up in a frenzy and she tried turning her face away from the constant blast of sand. Her muscles refused to cooperate; her limbs seeming sluggish and not coordinating with the commands issued by her muddled brain.

John spun them around, his eyes wild and looking for signs of activity. Linka's frightened gaze settled on the SUV and out of the corner of her eye she spotted Bleak through the window, pummelling the daylights out of his minder.

She froze, watching Bleak haul himself into the front seats and disappear from view. John dragged her around again, his eyes darting from left to right. Linka lost sight of the vehicle, crying out as the tip of the knife penetrated her skin, drawing blood.

"C'MON! WHERE ARE YOU?"

An arrow whizzed past and Linka screamed, hearing the whistle of its feathers as it landed two feet in front of them. Another flew past their heads, hitting the wall behind them and clattering to the ground. She wriggled against him, her eyes wide and fearful as two dark figures passed her field of vision in the distance, darting between buildings. Then another five to six individuals on the rooftops, bows and weaponry in hands as they leapt about and disappeared from view.

Another arrow curved past and John roared in pain, dropping Linka and staggering away, clutching his shoulder. She collapsed to the ground, still unable to support her own body weight.

More movement and shifting shadows as her eyes continued to adjust. She felt John's presence behind her again; felt his hand grip her hair and suddenly tighten, dragging her upwards. She cried out in agony, arms flailing but still unable to coordinate her legs into an upward movement.

A figure came barrelling towards them. Linka was knocked sideways as Bleak tackled John to the ground; sending him sprawling into the dirt and launching several violent kicks to the guts for good measure.

Linka raised herself on trembling arms, looking around blearily. Bleak dragged her to her feet; half-carrying her towards the sidewalk.

* * *

"MOVE!" he bellowed, narrowly avoiding another arrow as it streaked past them. He pulled her into an abandoned clothes store, nearly tripping over discarded garment racks lying strewn throughout the floor in his haste to find cover. "Jesus!"

Bleak glanced back as a loud explosion decimated the vehicle they'd been travelling in. It burst into flames just as Linka slumped to the ground behind what was left of the granite front counter, breathing heavily. "It's a fucking war-zone out there!"

Bleak peered over the top. There were about a dozen people converging on the other side of the street, moving off into small groups, intent on rounding up Blight's crew. Their weapons were rudimentary, but he wasn't arrogant enough to ignore the fact they were good at using them. They were fit and strong, and very well organized.

Bleak crept towards the remnants of the front windows, keeping out of sight and listening intently. The people seemed to be deferring to someone on the other side of the street. Bleak narrowed his eyes, scrutinising the stocky hooded figure currently bent over Luke's still body, searching his pockets.

The man straightened and Bleak darted out of sight again. His ears pricked as a name echoed across the street; accompanying a request to search the buildings, and a familiar voice responded in kind.

His assumption had been correct.

A ring-bearer had arrived.

* * *

"I'm gonna bolt before they take me down."

Bleak was by her side. She was lying on her back; knees drawn up with her hands clutched over her face. Her body trembled — a combination of shock and the drugs leaving her system. "Some of those arrows were aimed at me."

She reached for him and he grunted, grabbing her hand. He helped haul her into a sitting position, the dizziness causing her to sway slightly. She leant back against the counter. The blood had left her face and her lips were pale white.

"Where will you go?" she asked, barely audible.

He shrugged. "I'm a survivor. I'll be close by." He jumped to his feet. The attackers were close now; he could hear their voices getting louder. "Don't go home without me."

She shook her head, too dazed to reply. She whispered his name, but he was already gone — having disappeared out back.

Footsteps crunched over rubble. Linka struggled to stay focused — she knew someone was here, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. She tilted her head, gazing up at a water-marked poster attached to the wall in front of her, advertising a summer sale long since over.

She swallowed nervously as hooded figures moved cautiously through the store, until one of them spotted her sitting limply against the counter. The figures quietly withdrew again and, over the pounding of her heart, Linka heard a woman's voice calling back into the street, the words indistinct.

Linka sat quietly, her palms resting on her lap and her breathing slow and shallow, waiting for the inevitable.

* * *

"She's behind the counter," the woman said softly and he nodded, anticipation causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Wondering if their monitoring of the CB frequencies had picked up evidence of the correct person. The person he'd been told to expect, but dared to hope wouldn't arrive.

"Stay here," he said as he stepped into the empty shell of the store, glass crunching under his boots as he approached the counter cautiously. He rounded the corner and his heart stopped, scarcely recognising the dishevelled girl sitting so passively in front of him.

He sunk down to his knees in front of her, reaching forward and pushing aside her hair. She had marks and abrasions covering her face and arms, and her green eyes stared without seeing — she'd obviously been through hell.

"Linka?"

His voice was gentle. She didn't respond and he leaned back on his heels, forgetting that he still had the hood covering most of his face. He drew it over his head and shook her gently, shocked at how limp and unresponsive she was. Trying to bring her back from whatever safe haven her mind had wandered to.

"Linka."

Louder now. She blinked, seeming to acknowledge his presence — just that he was there and that he meant her no harm. Her mouth moved soundlessly and she reached out, running her fingertips down the thick fabric covering his upper body. Yet he knew that the initial sparks of familiarity were beginning to grow in her mind.

It was the way he'd said her name. The inflection on the last syllable, decreasing in pitch. All the times she'd heard it; whether being issued an instruction, or during warm conversation. Occasionally a reprimand, when her temper got the better of her.

He took a moment to think about what she was seeing: A vertical scar travelled down the side of his face, starting from his temple and ending at the ridge of his chin. He was older... so much older than she would remember him. Lines and creases on his brow and around his eyes. His hair, corn-rolled against his scalp, was prematurely greying at his temples, and his dark skin was marked and scarred with old wounds and injuries.

But he knew the eyes remained the same. His wife had often commented that they were his most redeeming feature. Deep brown; warm pools of empathy and compassion and they regarded Linka with a mixture of emotions — love, affection and concern. And perhaps grief.

"Linka?" He shook her again, and something seemed to shift. She gazed at him in wonder, her mouth falling open. Recognition had finally dawned on her face. "Linka, are you all right?"

She stared up at him in disbelief. "Kwame?"

He smiled back, emotional now. Gripping her under the arms, he lifted her up and she collapsed against him, weeping. She tucked her forehead under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.

"Kwame," she sobbed, clutching at him with a near panicky grip. "Oh god, you're here..."

He tightened his arms around her trembling body, reassuring her with quiet, hushed words; her breath warm and ragged against his neck as she broke down.

"We have to go," he urged quietly, and he kept his arm around her as he guided her out of the store, carefully navigating her around the obstacles in their way. "It is not safe here."

They stepped out into the street. Kwame motioned toward a member of his group waiting close by and a blanket was brought forth. He draped it over Linka's shoulders and led her away, keeping her tucked securely under his arm.

The others kept a respectful distance, falling into step behind them, weapons kept ready for any impending danger as they navigated their way through the descending darkness.


	14. Chapter 14

They bunkered down for the night, taking shelter in an abandoned shopping mall beside what used to be a major highway. A few members of the group went exploring — searching for food and water. The rest slowly dispersed, some taking the opportunity to look around for supplies while others found comfortable spots to lie down and rest.

The ironically named "Sunshine Mall" was in ruins. It was filthy; crawling with cockroaches, rats and an assortment of other rodents seeking shelter from the elements. The stores had been long-since looted, emptied of their products and vandalised.

Graffiti covered the walls and several cars were lying smashed in the centre court area. One vehicle had cleaned out the base of the escalators and ploughed through the information desk, sending glass in every direction.

Kwame led her through the plaza and they eventually ended up at what looked like an employee lounge area towards the back. As they entered, she caught her reflection for the first time on a wall mirror and inhaled sharply, shocked at the image staring back at her.

_I look like a raccoon._

The bags under her eyes nearly reached her cheek bones. The delicate skin under her eyelids had turned black due to lack of sleep, and her face was puffy and ashen — smudged with dirt and blood. Linka shuddered, turning away before she could focus for too long on the state of her hair.

She leant against the wall, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself and staring hard at Kwame, still aghast at the fact that he was here. The physical changes were breathtaking to behold. Older now; his face lined with scars, his expression hardened with age and weariness. He opened a kitchen cabinet above his head, rummaging around and pulling down some tinned foods.

Linka suspected that he already knew the food would be there.

Throwing a can to her, she caught it and opened the ring-pull mechanism, using her fingers to scoop out the diced peaches and pears. They were delicious and sweet, rolling down her throat and easing the rumbling deep within the pit of her stomach.

Linka raised the can to her lips and tipped it back, drinking the fruit juice that was left behind. She looked around, still dazed and trying to process everything that had happened.

Slumping heavily onto a row of cushioned bench seats, Kwame gave Linka a small smile. She tossed her empty tin into the trash and sat quietly beside him; gripping his hand tightly and hesitant to let go. Drawing comfort from his presence.

"Are you all right?" he asked for the tenth time since he'd found her, looking at her worriedly. She rolled her wind ring around her finger, relieved beyond words that Kwame had managed to locate and return it.

She sighed, finally giving him a truthful answer and struggling to keep her voice steady. " _Nyet_. No, I am not."

"What happened? Did they hurt you?"

She nodded but remained silent, not willing to talk about her ordeal yet. Not wanting to dwell on the negative, because Kwame was here now, and she felt safe and protected. Dragging up the memories would tip her over the edge.

She squeezed Kwame's hand and he ran his thumb over her knuckles in return. "How did you know I was here?"

Kwame leant back with a sigh. "We were listening to the radio frequencies and picked up your details."

"I told them I was German?" she frowned, pulling her feet up under her and resting her cheek against the back rest. "It could have been anyone."

"We took a chance," he said, smiling as he looked down at her small hand enclosed within his own. "Besides, the description they gave was accurate."

"Have you been waiting for me, Kwame?" She frowned, rubbing her eyes. "I do not understand, what has happened here? How did you know I would be brought here?"

"It was one of the last things Gaia told us before…" He trailed off, a reflective look passing over his face. "It is a long story."

"Did Blight bring me through the portal before? Have I already been through the worm hole?" She shook her head, trying to articulate the mind-bending nature of what she was asking. "Do you remember me going through the worm hole eleven years ago, in Blights lab?"

"No," he said firmly and her heart sunk. "No, Blight never even got her technology off the ground when we were Planeteers. You never travelled to the future during the past I experienced. This is definitely a first."

"Gaia is gone?" she asked softly and he nodded.

"Where?"

He didn't answer. Linka scrutinised her friend carefully, still trying to equate the man that she knew with the one sitting in front of her. The changes were staggering. The scars, the mannerisms. The hard expression replacing cautious optimism. The sparkle in his eyes now dulled.

"What has happened here, Kwame?"

"We failed." A look of sadness passed over his face and he squeezed her fingers. "There is a lot you need to know Linka, but there is plenty of time for that. You look exhausted."

" _Da_ ," she said softly, rubbing her face with both palms. She shuffled down the row of seats, stretching out and adjusting the blanket around her. The top of her head pressed against Kwame's thigh, still intent on keeping him close.

She gave a small smile as she felt Kwame's hand rest on her shoulder. The glint of metal shone in the candle light and she turned her face slightly, reaching over and tracing the ring covering his wedding finger.

"Are you married?" she breathed, scarcely believing what she was seeing. Kwame chuckled in response.

"Her name is Trissa. You will meet her soon enough." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Get some rest, my friend. We have at least another two day's walk before we get home."

"All right," she replied sleepily. "Kwame?"

"Yes?"

"Is everyone else here?"

"Yes. They are close by. We are no longer together as a group, but they will come." He pulled out a small pager-looking device with a small light blinking green and an antenna jutting out of the top. "I switched this on just after we found you. We all have one."

A thought occurred to her. "Kwame, Bleak said that your Doctor Blight sent for me?"

"Yes."

"So an older Blight exists here too?"

"Yes."

"How can that be? Blight from my time came through with me. How can your Blight exist?"

"We have a theory, but I will wait for the others to arrive, Linka."

"Did I disappear, Kwame? In your past?

"No," he replied softly. "No you didn't."

She sighed, aware of the implications. "Does this mean I will see myself here?"

His fingers gently kneaded her shoulder. "No."

"Oh," she said. Her eyes were heavy but she was deeply troubled by this revelation. "Why not?"

"Because God help us, having two Linka's running around would be too much to deal with." The corners of his mouth curved into a smile. "The answers are coming, I promise. Try to get some sleep."

She resettled herself and breathed out deeply, releasing the tension from her body despite the unsettled feeling in her stomach.

She slept.

* * *

"There's running water in the food court bathrooms." The girl smiled, perching herself on the back-rest and looking down at Linka, who was currently stretching the kinks out of her body. "You know. If you wanna get yourself cleaned up."

"Wonderful," Linka said, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She leaned forward, dropping her forehead into her hands. "Where is Kwame?"

"Workin' out the best route to get us outta here. They're watching our usual roads."

"Who are watching?" Linka frowned. "Blight's people?"

"Uh, yeah. Amongst others." She offered her hand in a gesture of friendship and after a moment Linka shook it. "I'm Grace, by the way."

Linka studied her for a moment, already feeling at ease in her company. Grace possessed a small frame and a wide smile. Delicate features, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and green eyes that sparkled. An upturned nose and freckles dotting a path over the bridge. A bow and several quivers lay propped up by the doorway.

"You are an archer?"

"Yeah," she said, motioning for Linka to follow her. Linka rose to her feet, wincing as pain flared through her head. She stretched and they headed out, weaving their way through the mall. "I'm not very good, but yeah."

"Were you an archer before all of this?" Linka asked, motioning around her.

"God, no," Grace laughed. "No way. I was a secretary for a transport company." She grinned, shaking her head. "Only thing I knew how to handle was a phone."

"I guess you had to learn pretty quickly," Linka remarked, eyeing a graffiti tag splashed brightly over the wall from an individual named 'S _piffy_ '.

"Yeah," Grace said, glancing at Linka. "We all had to learn to defend ourselves when the riots began."

"Riots?" Linka asked, her mouth suddenly dry. " _Bozhe moy_ , what happened here."

"Maybe I shouldn't be the one to tell you. I'm sure Kwame will fill you in." Grace looked away, biting her lip. "Let's just say, once the technology and finances failed, people started turning on each other. It got pretty bad."

Grace led Linka through the trashed food court, pulling up outside of a public restroom and holding the door open. "Third sink from the end. Running water is really hard to find out here, but it should be enough to clean yourself up."

" _Spasiba,_ " she said, heading quickly for the faucet in question. Turning the tap on, she splashed water over her face and rubbed her skin vigorously — feeling a little grossed out at the amount of dirt trailing its way down the drain. "Ugh."

Grace smiled, rummaging around in her back pack and pulling out two hand towels and some fresh clothes. "Hope these fit. Found them in a locker out back."

"Wonderful," Linka murmured, desperate to shed the clothes she was in. Stripping the blanket and her singlet off, she saw Grace wince as the hidden grazes and cuts covering her stomach and neck became visible.

"Might need to take care of those now," Grace said, nodding towards Linka's stomach. She reached up, taking a closer look at the back of Linka's head. "Infections happen pretty quickly, these days. Antibiotics are hard to come by."

They worked together for the next ten minutes, cleaning her wounds and spot-drying them. Linka sat on the edge of the counter, gritting her teeth, tears springing to her eyes as Grace worked to remove the foreign objects embedded within her scalp. They washed her hair as best they could, before a bottle of hand sanitiser was pulled from the back pack.

"It's not antiseptic, but the alcohol content should do the job," Grace said apologetically, noticing Linka's eyes were squeezed shut, her fists clenched as the liquid was dabbed over her wounds. "Sorry hon. I know it stings."

Linka blew a heavy breath outward, relieved when it was over. Stepping into the jeans and pale pink sweatshirt Grace had produced, she tied her hair into a loose pony-tail and checked her reflection in the mirror. Still pale, still dark shadows beneath her eyelids — but looking (and feeling) much more human.

"That is better," she said, smiling shyly at Grace. "Thank you."

"Welcome," she replied with a grin. "C'mon. Let's go find the K-Man."

* * *

"Why do you not use cars?" Dry foliage crunched under Linka's feet as she made her way over the creek bed. "They picked me up from the scavenger camp in a car."

"Working vehicles are difficult to find," Kwame explained. He grabbed her hand, helping her down the embankment as her feet struggled to find traction. "We do not have access to fuel. Plus, using a vehicle means we would be more visible to the people we wish to remain hidden from. Does that make sense?"

"I guess," she said, frowning as she fell in step beside him again. "I am still not understanding."

"Having a vehicle would make us a target, Linka. We would be at the mercy of raiders and opportunists. So if we need to travel anywhere, we walk. Large groups — we call them convoys."

"But you would still be visible?" she said, still confused. Kwame sighed, settling his brown eyes on hers.

"We tend to spread out along the way, organising rendezvous points to meet up in. Raiders — the scavenger people who found you — don't tend to bother us because they know we're armed and in large numbers. They will only strike if you're in their territory, or if you are on your own. Or if you have something they want. Like a _vehicle_."

"Oh," she said. The air was cold, her skin having broken out in goosebumps so she wrapped the blanket tighter around her. "Grace said something about riots?"

"Oh, she did, did she?" Kwame said, his eyes narrowing as he turned back and glared in the archer's direction. Grace was about 500 feet behind them. She waved, blowing Kwame a kiss and performing an impromptu Irish jig in the middle of the field, earning laughter from the two men walking beside her.

He muttered something derogatory under his breath. "No wonder she gets on so well with Gi. They're both downright annoying."

"She is very nice." Linka laughed, turning and waving back. "I am looking forward to seeing the others."

He sighed. "Just be aware that a lot has changed, Linka. We will not be the same people you remember."

"Where are the other Planeteers now?"

"Gi lives in an underground settlement close to mine."

"Underground?"

He sighed, reaching for her hand and swinging it idly. "It is too dangerous living above the surface— both for safety reasons as well as the change in elements. We have no choice but to wear masks and face-coverings when we are above ground. The air quality is horrendous."

"We all found it very hard to breathe when we first arrived," Linka said, recalling how she had gasped for air.

"Yes. The oxygen content here is much lower, now. Your lungs would have taken time to acclimatise."

"So you and Gi both live under the ground?"

"Yes. Many people died during the riots. Governments disbanded, law and order ceased. Technology broke down. We established underground settlements to cater for those who survived and we do our best to remain hidden."

" _Bozhe moy,_ " she whispered. "What about Ma-Ti and the Yankee? Where are they?"

"Ma-Ti is in Brazil. In the jungle. I have not seen him for a few months, but he is married now. They are a self-sustaining tribe, so it wasn't a big adjustment for them."

"So the effects were global? World-wide?"

"Yes," he said. "I am not sure on the state of Europe, but the financial markets crashed there not long after America."

"Goodness," she muttered. "I still cannot believe…"

"It is a lot to take in. It all happened very quickly."

"Wheeler?" she asked, doing her best not to sound too curious. "What about Wheeler?"

"Jake is on the other side of the States. I think Delaware, or maybe Maryland?"

"He did not return to New York?" she asked. Chewing on her lower lip, Linka was suddenly a little apprehensive.

"New York was completely destroyed, Linka." He squeezed her hand, pulling her along. Their pace had slowed significantly and he urged her onwards. "There were mass migrations from New York and Washington."

"I guess I thought the Yankee would have stayed here with you and Gi," she said softly, trailing her free hand through the long grass. "I am not understanding why —"

"It is far too dangerous here for children. He took his family further south."

"WHAT?"

She froze, rooted to the spot. Her eyes went round and Kwame half-stumbled as he was jerked backwards courtesy of Linka's unmoving body.

Linka withdrew her hand from Kwame's and hugged herself tightly. Her mouth twitched as she stared up at him, the shock evident on her face.

"Linka, I know this —"

"Family? He is _married_?"

Kwame looked clearly uncomfortable. "Yes."

"He has a wife and children?"

Kwame nodded.

"Who is... wait, I…" she choked. Her mouth dropped open. "There is an older Blight here. You said I was here, too?"

"Yes."

"Where... where am I?"

"Russia."

"I am in Russia?" she confirmed slowly, staring at the ground and suddenly feeling her face growing hotter by the minute. "Is that why I will not see… myself here?"

"Yes," he said softly, looking at her with sympathetic eyes.

"When did I return to Russia?" she asked with utter bewilderment. Linka had started moving again but she was hunched and tense, still processing what Kwame had said.

"Just before the electricity went down," he said. Her body language had changed dramatically and Kwame swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. "You returned to your family. I know this is difficult, Linka."

"I guess I always... in the back of my mind," she swallowed; gazing upwards as she struggled to come to terms with her feelings. She laughed bitterly, wiping a tear away from her face. "One of the last conversations I had with you was about Wheeler. He had snuck into our tent during the night."

"I remember that," Kwame chuckled, a wide grin appearing on his face. "Was that Alaska? God, you two drove me insane, sometimes."

"I thought…" Her smile faded as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffing quietly. "I guess I always thought we would end up together. That maybe when things were finished with the Planeteers…"

"I know," he said, tightening his hold on her. Kwame looked away, nodding to members of his team as they passed them, staring at the pair with curiosity. "I realise this is a lot to take in."

" _Da_ ," Linka whispered. "I thought we had time. I guess we never got the chance…"

She squeezed him around the waist and withdrew, leaving him and walking ahead; eyes downcast and her arms crossed. Kwame watched her go, giving her space and knowing that she needed some time to process things on her own.


	15. Chapter 15

The sun was setting behind the hills, casting long shadows over the landscape. Linka coughed as she sat by the fire, wrapping her arms around her knees and taking in the scene around her. The group had retired for the night under the protection of a weather-beaten gas station shelter.

The fire was kept small. Matt — an investment banker from Orlando — had jokingly suggested they set the drum up next to the fuel pumps. Met with quiet laughter, the others had known it wouldn't have had much effect. The pumps had been drained years ago.

The sign that had once advised passing motorists of the fuel prices was lying crooked now. The price board was broken — hanging by electrical wires and it made a metallic thumping sound as it bumped against the main post. Linka jolted every time she heard it, eyes scanning her surroundings — but with the exception of the small flame burning, there was only darkness visible in all directions.

The darkness was absolute. It frightened her. The ever-present haze blocked the moonlight and she was unused to such intense blackness. It seemed unnatural.

She shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders and occasionally tuning in to the chatter going on around her. She felt shy around these people. More reserved than usual. Strangely, the same feelings had begun to manifest themselves when she was around Kwame.

She felt a tad uneasy around him. Almost distrustful.

He sat quietly beside her, occasionally adding a comment or an anecdote to the conversation which was currently centred on the weather conditions. Regardless of the familiarity, she found herself nervous around him. Not just because of the revelations she'd been shocked to learn earlier. It was more than that.

The uneasy feeling had been prickling away at her all day — the suspicion that he knew more than he was letting on about her situation. Despite her curiosity, Linka felt that he was intentionally avoiding or skirting certain questions. In the end, she'd given up asking due to the same blanket response.

_The answers are coming, Linka._

Linka blew a frustrated breath outwards. She re-shuffled herself, stretching her cramped legs out in front of her and propping herself against Kwame's back-pack.

"Is it always like this?" Linka finally asked, and she felt her face flush as a dozen pairs of eyes focused on her. She coughed again, before clarifying. "The sand, the wind." Gesturing around her, she shrugged. "The dark?"

"Yep," came a voice from the other side of the fire and she guessed it was Tyreese's baritone note that answered. "Nights take a long time to get used to out here. Has anyone else noticed that the wind has died down?"

The others murmured their agreement, curious that the sand was no longer blasting in their faces as it usually did. Many hadn't even bothered wearing their masks or face-wear during the walk.

She frowned, glancing down at her ring and noticed that Kwame was also peering down at her hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Do you still have your ring, Kwame? I haven't seen you use your —"

"Shhh," he whispered, raising his eyes to the other members of the group. He shook his head, before jumping to his feet and motioning for her to follow him. She did, looking perplexed. They trod carefully, their feet dislodging the dust as it swirled upwards courtesy of the illumination from Kwame's lantern.

They entered the adjoining pay-station shack and he waited for her to enter before he closed the door behind them.

She frowned, a little perplexed about the secrecy. "What —"

"Sorry," he said. "I try not to discuss the rings around them."

"Why?" She shook her head, confused. "Do they even know who you are?" Linka frowned, correcting herself. "Or who you were? I'm assuming the Planeteers are no more."

"A few of them know, yes."

"Do they know who I am? How I got here?" The familiar frustration was mounting and she bit it back, willing herself to remain calm. "You didn't answer my question. Do you still have your powers?"

"Look, there is plenty of time. The answers are com —"

" _Da_ , I know," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at him. "The answers are coming. I am not an … an  _an-vilid_  to… to…" She groaned, frustrated by her inability to come up with the correct word. Stamping her foot, she turned and gave him the cold shoulder. "Oh, _dyermo!_ "

”Linka, I —“

”Stop treating me like a child!”

Kwame sighed, resigning himself to appeasing the tempestuous Russian. "All right. We haven't been Planeteers for quite some time, Linka. We retained our rings but relinquished our elements."

"Why?" Linka stared at her friend, at a loss to process the reasoning behind this new information. "What does that mean?"

"Around nine years ago, things were getting incredibly dangerous for us. Gi was nearly drowned." Kwame pointed to his face with a pained look. "Greedly wasn't chopping onions when he did this."

She gasped, reaching forward and touching the roughened skin. "This happened _during_ the Planeteers?"

Kwame nodded. "Wheeler was shot twice through the chest on Looten Plunder’s orders. We nearly lost him. Gaia was fading by this stage. We simply couldn't keep a handle on things. When it all started to go bad, she chose to permanently combine our powers." He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor. "It backfired on us."

"Permanently combine…" she said. "You mean, Captain Planet took over our duties?"

"Yes."

"Well, where is he?"

"We don't know."

"You don't know?" she asked, slightly incredulous.

"No."

Linka frowned. "What do you mean when you say it _backfired_?"

"We know he is still earth-bound because our ring powers never returned to us. He's here somewhere, we just don't…" Kwame trailed off, sighing heavily. "It backfired because we are missing Cap, we have no Gaia and no powers. We are on our own."

"But _my_ power exists here," she said, her mind ticking over. A headache was starting to form and she shook her head, trying to clear the fuzzy white noise invading her brain. "I do not understand…"

"That was always your problem, Linka," he replied. Kwame's face was sad, now. Reflective. He reached forward and touched the tip of her nose with a fond smile. "You were always too curious for your own good."

She sighed, stretching her arms behind her head and yawning loudly at the same time.

"There is more, but I promised the others we would all be together so we could fill you in on what you had missed." Kwame wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her in for a cuddle. "Regardless of the circumstances though, it is so good to see you, my friend. I have missed you. We have all missed you."

She smiled, squeezing him back. "It is a pity I will be unable to have a serious talk with my other self. Why on earth would I have chosen to return to Russia?" She folded her arms indignantly. "Not that older me should even exist. That is _psikh_. I am still struggling to get my head around that."

"Once again — too curious for your own good," Kwame repeated in a low voice and she made a face, elbowing him in the ribs. He tightened his hold around her and they half walked, half stumbled towards the camp fire. "I know you have more questions. We have some theories but nothing concrete. The others should be arriving within the next week or so and we will fill you in on everything we know. I would prefer to do it as a team. I promised them I would."

"All right," Linka conceded, settling herself down on the ground. Using Kwame's back-pack as a pillow, she turned onto her side and wrapped the blanket tightly around her.

There was a definite chill in the air. Her eyes lulled almost immediately and she fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

_Flies._

_Thousands of flies. The air was thick with them. She pressed her mouth shut, waving her arms in an effort to dislodge the swarming mass. Her hands cut through them like a knife through butter, her heart pounding hard as she realised they were getting thicker. Panic and anxiety spiralling through her as she fought them off._

_Each movement caused a few seconds relief, but then they returned with a vengeance. They seemed to gravitate towards her; like a magnetic pull._

_She twisted and writhed around, feet flicking up sand and unable to see where she was going. A sneaker snagged something hidden beneath her and she tripped, sprawling face-first._

_Lifting herself onto her hands and knees, the black mass ebbed away and she found herself nose to nose with something else. The flies were all but forgotten. She neglected to breathe for a moment, unable to tear her gaze from the image before her._

_A body lay half buried; the skin mottled and partially mummified from the elements. Doctor Blight grinned back at her — flies escaping from her ears and nostrils. Her mouth was an undulating wave of black and Blight's eyes were wide and unseeing. But not._

_"Dead," the Doctor croaked with that terrifying grin, spitting flies into the air. Blight winked, making gagging noises as the thing regurgitated a large amount of the winged insects. A trail of maggots had descended down Blight's chin, dribbling down the underside of the neck in thick, white globs._

_A gaping wound was visible across the jugular and the vocal cords underneath were visible underneath the dead tissue, stretched taut._

_Linka shrank back in horror and Blight's arm shot out with lightning-fast reflexes. Leathery skin gripped Linka's wrist, pulling her downwards. She drew back; a high pitched whine starting in the back of Linka's throat. She fought back with every ounce of strength she had left but the pull was too great._

_"Dead," the Blight-thing said again, almost cheerful in its demeanour. It beckoned, inviting Linka in. Welcoming her._

_She tipped her head back and screamed into the night._

* * *

"Linka?"

A soft voice called to her and she felt Blight's hand tighten on her wrist. She screamed again, desperate to drag herself away, hitting out at the dead thing intent on pulling her down into the earth. Punching and kicking it away with all her might.

Unbeknownst to her, she had reverted to Russian as she begged, cried and pleaded. Her breath was ragged and shallow, as if inhaling too deeply would result in flies entering her lungs. Or worse.

"Linka! Wake up!"

The voice was on the edge of her subconscious. It was enough to shake her back into reality.

Linka scrambled into a sitting position, nostrils flaring and eyes wide with fear. Like a deer in the headlights she shuffled away from Grace's concerned figure, grazing the palm of her right hand in the process. She barely noticed.

Grace approached with her hands out, crouching down and placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. Breathing heavily, Linka collapsed onto the ground, letting out an involuntary shudder. Blight's mummified face was still burnt into her memory as she ran a shaky hand through her hair, blinking back tears.

"Linka, are you okay, hon?" Grace sat patiently beside her as Linka composed herself. "Linka?"

She nodded, catching her breath. "Bad dream."

"Sounded like a doozy," Grace murmured, rubbing Linka's back in a soothing, circular motion. "Sure you're all right?"

Linka nodded, attempting to give her a small smile as Grace moved away with a 'thumbs up' signal. Linka rubbed her face with a groan, still disorientated. People were in the midst of packing away and she realised that it was morning.

She stood and began packing her meagre possessions into Kwame's back pack, intent on being ready to move when needed.

* * *

"It was just a dream, Kwame."

"Just a dream?" Kwame commented drily, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. She sniffed, clearly embarrassed at her rather loud vocal performance.

"I dreamt about Blight," she said, and Kwame raised his eyebrows. Linka was suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn't clued Kwame in to the identities and current whereabouts of her travelling party. "She was here with me. She is dead, now."

"What?" he said sharply, distracted from his constant state of vigilance. "What do you mean? Did your Blight not survive the…"

"The scavengers killed her," she said, dropping her gaze to the ground and Kwame gripped her shoulders.

"I assumed she was in the car with you? Our view from the rooftop was obscured at times. We were not able to find them all after they scattered from the vehicle. Lambert slipped through our fingers," he added, looking disgusted with himself.

"Lambert? Is that James? John? she asked, struggling to recall the given name of the man who'd seemed so nice and normal. Pleasant. Eager to help — until he'd drugged her, used her as a human shield and held a knife to her throat.

_Wonderful judge of character, Linka._

"Lambert is Blight's second in command. Does all her dirty work. So your Blight did not survive?"

Linka shook her head. " _Nyet._ Blight never left the scavenger camp. I saw her body. They killed another man who travelled with us too. I… I had never seen him before that day. He had apparently started working for Plunder? I think he is Russian."

"Andrei Kroi." Recognition passed over Kwame. His eyes darkened for a moment and he resumed walking, his body language tense. He seemed anxious about something. "That sadistic bastard. Did he hurt you?"

"He tried." She sighed, pointing to the wound on the back of her head. Kwame groaned, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently.

"I'll rephrase my question, Linka, since I have a far more comprehensive history with him than you do." Kwame stopped again, tugging her back and forcing her to face him. "Did he hurt you in any other ways?"

"Oh," she said, realisation dawning. "He tried to…" Linka blushed, crossing her arms and feeling uncomfortable about divulging something so personal. Swallowing, Linka pressed on regardless. "Um… Kroi tried to force himself on me, but Bleak pulled me away before he could… you know."

"Thank God," he muttered, his body visibly relaxing. The relief was palpable. "The man is a complete sociopath. Argos Bleak is here too?"

" _Da_. He left just before you found me." She scrunched up her face at the irony. "Twice, now Bleak has saved me. How did you know Kroi might —"

Kwame's face held a distinct look of disdain. "Let us say that Kroi always held a very inappropriate interest in you, Linka. You had a few unpleasant experiences with that man after he started working for Plunder. Nothing serious," Kwame stressed, seeing the worry etched on her face, "but I remember one mission where Wheeler beat the living daylights out of him over something he'd said."

"Oh," she remarked quietly. Knowing Wheeler, she assumed the comment must have been extremely unpleasant. Wheeler had a temper, but rarely showed physical violence unless provoked.

They resumed walking again, skirting their way around sidewalks and dodging rubble strewn along their path. Members of the group weaved through the ruins ahead, their heads bobbing just within Linka's line of sight.

They were in what looked like central Los Angeles now and Linka stared at the damage; her mouth agape. The downtown LA had been levelled. A few buildings still stood but they were empty shells standing amongst debris and trash.

They stayed close to the buildings, careful to avoid treading the centre of the road. A whistle sounded from behind them and Linka gasped as Kwame grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her into the hollowed-out remains of what once was a cafe.

"Shhh," he said, keeping her out of sight. Grace and another two men in their forties had caught up. One was bald but she couldn't recall his name. She'd overheard the other sandy-haired man — Peter — talking about explosives with Kwame the day before and she'd assumed he had military experience. They all crouched together, alert and wary.

The distant rumble of a car sounded from the direction they'd just come from. Two short whistles followed and Linka glanced at Kwame's tense face, unsure what was going on.

He leaned forward. "First whistle means someone's coming. Second signal tells us if they're friendly."

"Are they friendly?" she asked, peering into the distance. She could definitely hear an engine but the source of the noise had yet to present itself.

He shook his head. "No. It will be Blight's people."

"We movin' on them?" Peter asked, reaching around and removing his bulky bag from his shoulders.

"No." Kwame nodded towards Linka. "They're desperate to get their hands on her. I don't want to risk it."

Peter shrugged, leaving his pack on the ground in front of him. The rumble of motors became louder; the sound all-encompassing since there was a distinct absence of any other noise. For the first time since she had arrived, Linka became aware of the fact that just as the night was un-naturally black here, the days were unnervingly quiet.

No electronic buzz. No people going about their daily business. No televisions. No traffic.

_No birds._

_"_ Where are the birds, Kwame?" she whispered, aware of the distinct lack of wildlife around. "Where are the animals?"

"Gone," Kwame said quietly. "At least from here."

"Oh God," she gasped. Wiping her eyes, she turned and froze as a black sedan drove by; its tyres crunching slowly over the gravel. Dark tinted windows shielded the occupants from outside scrutiny. Another vehicle followed the sedan and they soon turned the corner and disappeared from view.

"Heading back to Blight," Kwame muttered. He motioned towards the street and they followed, falling into step behind him. "Let's get you home… or at least, your home until we can get you _home_. We're two blocks away."

Linka nodded, grasping his outstretched hand and letting him lead her onwards.


	16. Chapter 16

"The system was built in the 1920's," Kwame explained. "The subway was meant to help tackle traffic congestion — but it was decommissioned decades ago."

Linka looked around curiously as she watched her fellow group members approach what looked like a derelict substation. Years of neglect had taken its toll on the building. The words "Pacific Electric" were just visible across the side of the structure and had faded over time to a mere outline. More graffiti — an assortment of bright, flamboyant colours competing for prominence.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she noticed someone in front turn and wave in the direction of a block of apartments nearby. Her eyes narrowed as she caught a flash of movement inside the top-floor window. It appeared that someone inside the building was waving back

They entered the substation in pairs and Linka inhaled the damp, musty smell that permeated the air. A metal staircase stood in front of her, no doubt used by subway employees who used to carry out maintenance and track work below.

"This is where you live?" she wondered aloud. The metal grates beneath her feet groaned loudly as she descended into the darkness, following Kwame and the others down the stairs and deep within the maintenance building.

"Not here, but below," he answered. "There's one mile of track space down here. The tunnels have been disused for around fifty years."

"Oh," she breathed, clutching tightly to the rickety hand rail. "Is it safe?"

Kwame chuckled. "Yes, quite safe. We have look-outs posted here in the station and outside, along the roof tops. They warn us if anyone unsavoury approaches."

"That is comforting," she muttered. Her foot snagged and she stumbled, falling against the guardrail and remaining upright only due to Tyreese's quick reflexes from behind her.

"Careful," he said cheerfully. "There's a couple of sharp edges down the bottom too."

"Spasiba," she said breathlessly, heart still pounding in her chest as she glanced over her shoulder with a small smile.

Linka's eyes narrowed as a dark shape in front stopped at a manhole buried in the earth. Progress on the stairs halted as the man gripped the cover and swung it open.

"Ladder into the tunnels," Kwame explained. His eyes skirted sideways for a moment and he groaned— his attention was diverted as he watched Matt drop confidently inside the manhole. He gripped the side rails, grinning at Kwame who leaned over, looking annoyed. "Do not even think about it!"

Matt disappeared quickly, his feet skidding down the outside of the metal rungs. Kwame rolled his eyes as they approached the cover, waiting in line for their turn. "We had a broken leg last week from someone doing exactly that."

Linka eyed the black hole warily, observing people slipping inside in an orderly fashion. Glancing around, she felt a sudden stab of apprehension. She watched Grace swing herself over the edge and climb down.

A hand appeared on her shoulder as Linka's turn approached. Kwame squeezed gently, reassuring her, and she sighed, sitting down on the rim and swinging her legs over the edge. Wrapping the ever-present blanket around her neck to avoid it snagging, she gripped the rails with determination and began the long descent.

Linka's feet hit the ground. The distance to the bottom of the shaft was longer than she had anticipated. She turned around, stepping away from the ladder to make room for Kwame, who was still making his way down. She was in a narrow access tunnel, just wide enough to fit two people side by side.

She stood patiently, watching the rest of the group weaving their way along the passageway, talking comfortably. Their voices echoed and bounced until they were out of sight, their lanterns casting jagged pathways of light that illuminated the dust present.

"Come on," he said, motioning for her to follow. They followed the passage for a few minutes. The air was cool down here and Linka shivered, raising the blanket over her head.

The path widened out and the earth under her feet disappeared, replaced by a wire-mesh walkway that bounced slightly with each step she took. Linka's jaw dropped as a massive cavernous space opened up below her. She stopped, gripping the hand rail and leaning over, eyes scanning the hive of activity.

A bustling hub lay beneath her feet, stretching as far as she could see. It was noisy; the constant murmur of voices drowned out by sounds of motors running. She leaned back, glimpsing what looked like steam-powered generators running nearby.

The noise was thunderous — the generators were powering industrial floodlights which illuminated the area below. Kwame gently gripped her hand and she resumed walking, thoroughly distracted and letting him pull her along.

She fell in step behind him, open-mouthed and fascinated by the level of organisation and ingenuity that surrounded her. She descended another set of stairs and found herself amongst a sea of people. Kwame weaved his way through them, holding tightly to her hand.

Linka tilted her head upwards, staring in fascination at the suspension bridge above their heads. A brass sign hung affixed to the wall opposite the bridge and she squinted, trying to read the contents but it was too far away.

"We are in the Belmont Tunnel," Kwame explained. "It was built as a rail transit system to combat traffic, but the area was abandoned in the 1950's. It is concrete lined, very sturdy. We've modified it. Made changes and extended upon the existing structure. It's not much, but it's home for about 500 of us."

"This is amazing," Linka murmured, however her voice was drowned out by the clamour around them. She spoke louder this time. "It is like a city down here!"

Kwame nodded. "The people here are the ones who have chosen to stay. We have engineers here, architects, doctors." He grinned suddenly. "Botanists."

"Coming through!" A voice issued sternly from behind her and Linka jumped, startled as a trolley was pushed past the pair. Cardboard boxes were stacked neatly within and Linka noted they were filled with cans of food — mainly tuna and tinned beans. The trolley was pushed away. It wove unsteadily off to the right as she was led towards a separate tunnel to the left.

"Headed for the store room. We ration out what we can. Manufactured food is getting harder to come by."

Her eyes widened as she spotted several large metal drums on the corner, filled with soil and growing an assortment of vegetables. The low hum of another generator rumbled as she passed it, connected to what looked like a complicated UV light system.

"Kwame, is that…" she started, halting and hoping for a closer inspection but he tugged her onwards, spotting Grace and a few of the others and following close behind. The generator noise ebbed away, along with the human clamour from the main subway tunnel. They appeared to be in a less densely populated area of the system now, and she assumed it was one of the recently added sections.

Turning abruptly, Linka found herself tugged into a common area not unlike the one she knew so well on Hope Island. Kwame released her hand and she halted just inside the doorway, feeling ill at ease with the assortment of strangers lounging around on the sofas and floor.

"Welcome back," one of the new additions called, slapping Kwame on the back on his way out and he nodded in response.

Linka watched Kwame approach a girl sitting perched on the back of the sofa, chatting quietly with the people around her. Kwame reached out and shoved her playfully. The girl overbalanced and nearly tipped forward, turning and shoving him back with a grin.

"That's not nice," she chastised him. Linka's heart skipped a beat and she bit her lip, observing the glossy mane of black hair, dead-straight and shiny. It flowed to the middle of her spine, much longer than Linka could ever recall seeing it.

"When did you get here?" Kwame asked the girl, glancing back at Linka and smiling, motioning for her to come over. Linka stood rooted to the spot, however.

The girl twisted slightly to address Kwame, granting Linka a view of her profile. The familiar upturned nose and sparkling eyes were blessedly familiar. The voice even more so.

"This morning," the girl answered, giving him a once-over. "Another wild goose chase?"

"No," he answered, motioning towards the entrance and Gi at last settled her gaze on Linka. The shock was evident on her face. Her jaw hung open and the smile slipped from her lips. A look of disbelief and grief contorted her pretty face.

Her physical reaction was even stronger. Body jerking and twisting, she slipped off the sofa with a huff, tumbling out of sight as her legs followed.

Ignoring the grumbles of pain from those around her, Gi quickly regained her composure. She scurried to her feet and crossed the room in three strides. She launched herself at Linka, clutching her around the neck in a panicky embrace as Linka hugged her back.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Gi whispered, her voice breaking. She swayed slightly, leaning back and pulling Linka's blanket around her shoulders so she could get a better look. Gi bit her lip, her eyes wet as she reached out, her fingers dancing across the abrasions and marks on Linka's face. "Oh God, look at you."

Gi sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her shirt and giving Linka a watery smile. "C'mon," she said gently, gripping Linka's arms and steering her away from the curious crowd.

* * *

 

They spent the first ten minutes in relative silence, limbs tangled on the bed and cuddling. Linka lay still; relaxed and sleepy, comfortable enough to close her eyes and gather her thoughts. Every now and then a tremble would wrack Gi's body and she would burrow closer to Linka, sniffling quietly.

Gi had taken her to one of the many sleeping areas; small spaces hollowed out of the subway walls. A set of wrought iron children's bunks filled most of the space and the pair were lying on the bottom level of the bunk. A curtain had been drawn across the entrance, intended to allow the owner of the space a modicum of privacy.

A wet sniffle issued from Gi, and Linka's eyes fluttered open. She had her face pressed so close to Linka's forehead that she could feel Gi's teeth grazing her hairline.

"Are you all right," Linka eventually asked. The sound of her Russian accent must have set off a new wave of tears because Gi groaned loudly, tightening her arms around her.

"Oh God," she whispered, eyes glistening as she leaned back and regarded Linka with a weak smile. "Here you are all banged up to hell and you're asking me if I'm all right."

Linka shifted her body, biting her lip. Gi's eyes were red rimmed and her face was blotchy. She rolled onto her back as Gi sat up, tugging Linka into a sitting position beside her on the bed. They sat with their backs against the wall, however Gi didn't relinquish her hand. She drew it into her lap, clutching it tightly. Gi's sniffles had subsided and Linka found herself being closely scrutinised.

Linka found her neck and face heating up, peering shyly at the girl who was so obviously Gi, but not at all the friend she remembered. Older. Her eyes had darkened over the years and a set of lines had appeared at the outside corners of Gi's eyelids. Linka drew her knees up to her chest and turned slightly, running her fingers through Gi's long tresses with a small smile.

"I like your hair," she offered, and Gi laughed, throwing her free arm around Linka's shoulders. She pulled her in close, pressing a kiss against Linka's forehead.

"God," Gi repeated, squeezing her hand. "I was here when Kwame and the guys headed out again. It's the third time they've picked up someone with your description over the radio." She shook her head with wonder, giving her a tight smile and Linka watched on as the tears began to fall again. Gi wiped them away again.

"Kwame said he contacted everyone?"

"Yeah. I was here, anyway. I divide my time between here and home. When my communicator turned green, I thought must have been a glitch. I just assumed the latest run was gonna be another false alarm," Gi whispered, breaking down into sobs again. She raised her eyes, regaining her composure and wiping her cheeks with the back of her fingers. "God, it's good to see your face."

"You look so different," Linka breathed, and Gi chuckled.

"You look so damn young," she replied. Gi dropped her head onto Linka's shoulder and they sat quietly. "How old are you? Now, I mean? Then? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty-three." She watched Gi frown for a moment and Linka saved her the effort of calculating. "Eleven years. Blight said she brought me forward eleven years."

"I thought Gaia had to be wrong," Gi whispered. "I didn't wanna believe it. I mean, with everything that has gone down since she…" Gi trailed off, sniffling again. She rubbed her thumb over Linka's ring, twisting it around her finger. "Never mind. I'm babbling."

She squeezed Linka's hand again and sighed, fixing a cursory eye over Linka's dishevelled appearance. Despite the clean-up attempt at the mall, her blonde hair resembled a bird's nest and a new layer of grime coated her skin.

Gi tutted, prodding gently at the wounds on her head, neck and face. "You look terrible. Looks like you've been through hell. Let's get you fixed up, Lin."

"All right."

Gi stood and tugged her to her feet, heading out into the dim light beyond. As they passed through the makeshift doorway, Gi wrapped Linka in an affectionate embrace, squeezing her tightly.

"I've missed you," she said softly. "More than you'll ever know."


	17. Chapter 17

The bath was bliss. She stepped into the warm water tiredly, breathing out the unpleasantness of the past seven days. Content to let Gi fuss over her, washing the dirt away with a soft loofah. The actions were soothing and Linka quite often felt herself lulling towards sleep. She sat quietly with her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around her legs.

Eventually she rested the side of her face against her knees, filling Gi in on the events of the past week. Gi listened intently, occasionally stopping her to ask questions or make comments. The movement of the loofah paused when Linka mentioned Bleak and Kroi's presence and she raised her head, noting the same troubled expression that had graced Kwame's features the day before.

"Are you…" Gi asked worriedly, flicking her gaze over the scratches and abrasions. "He didn't… Kroi didn’t touch you, did he?"

Linka shook her head, explaining what happened. Gi breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God." She resumed her careful ministrations, now working on detangling Linka's hair with a thick comb. "Creep."

"I am guessing the man had a little trouble with the word 'no'?"

"The word 'no' doesn't even register in his vocabulary, Linka," Gi replied bitterly. "Look up 'narcissistic sexual psychopath' and there'll be a picture of Andrei Kroi's ugly face. Bastard."

"Kwame said Wheeler beat him up?"

"Yeah," she breathed, distracted somewhat by the state of Linka's hair. "Wheeler was always two steps behind you during missions involving Plunder after that creep started workin' for him. Kroi cornered you near an empty grain silo. Beat you up badly and was tryin’ to…"

"What?" she exclaimed, looking up at Gi. "I assumed he just made a threat against me, from what Kwame said?"

"Oh," Gi said, looking away quickly and avoiding her eyes. "Maybe I remembered it wrong."

Linka sighed. Her body lurched slightly with the motions of the comb and she clutched her knees tighter, feeling the frustration mounting again.

"I would suggest you and Kwame need more time to discuss things," she said blithely. The comb stilled again and Linka sniffed, running her hand through the warm water. "Next time, you might wish to sort the truth from the lies you are both planning on telling me."

"It's not like that, Lin," Gi soothed, placing her hand on Linka's back. "Honestly. There's been a lot that's happened here. Some of it is downright awful. There's information we don't mind you returning home with, but there's other stuff — like Kroi — that's closely related to you. It's unpleasant. Kwame was just trying to protect you –– and I still have no filter after all these years, you'll notice. But seriously, we'll all be here soon and I promise that the —"

" _Da_ ," Linka said. She was too exhausted to argue. She raised her head, jabbing her index finger in Gi's direction. "If the next words out of your mouth are ' _the answers are coming, Linka,_ ', I will jam that comb up your —"

"You can try!" Gi's face broke into a wide grin and she snorted, grabbing Linka's knees and hauling her forward. Her arms flailed and she found herself submerged for a moment.

Linka broke the surface of the water again, coughing and spluttering as Gi threw something towards her. She caught it, holding the towel above the sloshing water as she raised herself gingerly to her feet.

Wrapping the towel around herself, Linka stepped out and made her way across the small bathroom. Gi was waiting for her, arms folded across her chest and the grin still on her face.

"Ready for bed, princess?" Her voice was teasing and Linka couldn't help but smile back.

Linka nodded, giving her a sly sideways glance. " _Da_. Going to give me the comb?"

"Not a chance."

Linka chuckled. Despite the circumstances, she was thrilled to see that Gi's personality and sense of humour had remained intact after all these years.

* * *

The floodlights and generators were turned off at ten pm sharp every night. The girls made it back to the room with a few minutes to spare. Linka discovered that the room they had returned to actually belonged to Grace. She insisted the girls remain, opting to sleep elsewhere for the night despite their protests.

Gi tossed some clean clothes towards Linka and she quickly changed into them. With the generators no longer operating, an unnatural quiet had descended upon the tunnels. Every now and then, the odd noise issued from elsewhere: metallic clangs, laughter and the passing of wheels over earth and concrete.

The sounds were muffled however and almost comforting. Instilling a sense of security. She fell into bed and curled up alongside Gi, her body aching with fatigue. She felt Gi clutch her hand, as if doubting her presence and wanting to keep her close.

Linka sighed, snuggling into the pillow and allowing sleep to take over.

* * *

"Linka still —?"

"Yeah. She's dead to the world, poor darlin'." Gi smiled down at him, grabbing some food from the table and balancing them on a chipped dinner plate. "Have you been baking?"

Kwame nodded, clutching his coffee between his hands as he watched her slice two pieces of bread from the still-warm loaf, adding it to the collection. She left the plate on the corner of the surface and leaned against it, lost in thought.

"Are you all right, Gi?"

"Yeah," she said softly, dropping down beside him with a reflective look on her face. "I guess I have to be. It's just so strange seeing her like this again. So young."

Kwame grunted in response. He grimaced at the taste of the coffee. "Strange for her too. I will bet she did not expect an eleven-year time hop when she woke up that morning."

"It's been so long since I saw her," Gi whispered, rubbing tears away and reaching for her worn hankerchief. "I forgot what it was like, you know?"

"I know." He threw an arm around Gi's shoulders. "Have you been outside in the past few days?"

Gi shook her head, clutching the damp rag in her lap. "No. Why?"

"The wind had died down to almost nothing."

"Really?" Gi sat quietly, considering the implications. "Wow. Interesting development."

"I thought so."

"Do you think he'll come?"

"He got the message and made contact, Gi," Kwame sighed. "He has to come. I am not even going to entertain the thought that he would—"

"It's been a long time," Gi offered. She shrugged, gazing at nothing in particular. "Three years."

"He will come," Kwame said soothingly. "Ma-Ti too."

She nodded, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip. "Ugh, that's awful."

"Only coffee we have left. Need something to keep me on top of things."

"What are you gonna do when you run out?"

He smiled. "I am sure Trissa can propagate a new species of coffee bean that doesn't require sunlight to survive."

"Of all the women to shack up with, you had to go and choose a botanist," Gi said with a laugh. She stood, squeezing his shoulder fondly and heading back towards Grace's room, grabbing the plate on her way out.

* * *

"We seem to have shared the same experiences," Linka said, tucking into the bread and strawberry jam. She was starving. "Although Kwame said I definitely didn't go through any wormhole during your past."

"No," Gi said. "Definitely no time travel."

They sat and rattled through a long list of eco-alerts, comparing the events and finding the details identical.

"What was the last mission you had?"

"Sludge syphoning oil from pipelines in Alaska," she said, and Gi nodded, reaching for a slice of tinned ham.

"Yeah, I remember that one, too," Gi said, chewing thoughtfully. She crossed her legs underneath herself and shivered, recalling the frigid conditions. "Never did like the cold. Sludge and his guys got a little trigger-happy on that one, didn't they?"

" _Da_ ," Linka replied. "I found a strange file too. On Sludge's laptop."

Gi stopped chewing. A look of disquiet passed over her face. She swallowed nervously. "SAIP?"

Linka raised her eyebrows. " _Da_. It was a little scary. Blight's program."

"Yeah," Gi said, biting her lip. "Um… You haven't done anything with it, have you?"

"Done what?" Linka asked, confused. "I only just found it, I never got the chance. Sludge's laptop is still sitting on my desk." She shivered, recalling the conversation with the malicious green entity within. "Do you remember my conversation with MAL?"

"What conversation?"

"The one in my room. You were all there. MAL spoke to me through Sludge's laptop."

"There was no conversation with MAL in your bedroom in my past, Linka."

Linka rubbed her chin, thinking hard. "No trip out to Las Vegas to Blight's compound?"

Nope," Gi said, shaking her head. "Never happened. I mean, to future 'us', anyway."

"Oh," Linka said. They sat in silence, finishing their meal. She eventually pushed the plate away, feeling full. "Do you know why I am here?"

She hesitated. "We have a theory but —"

"But you are waiting for the others."

Gi nodded. "Yeah. Ma-Ti's actually the one who seems to have things figured out."

"When do you think Ma-Ti and Wheeler will get here?"

"Ma-Ti should be here tomorrow. Wheeler? Maybe four or five days."

"Do you see them much?"

"We see Ma-Ti every few months. He pops his head in. Firebug? Not so much. It's been a few years."

"Have you met his wife and children?" Linka didn't dare meet Gi's eyes, embarrassed at the scrutiny Gi was now levelling towards her.

"Kwame told you, did he?" Gi breathed. "Jesus."

Linka nodded. She sighed, twisting her hair around her fingers, suddenly flustered. "I guess it is very hard for me to imagine him with someone else." She shrugged, fiddling with the seam of the jeans Gi had leant her. "He always took such good care of me. Looked out for me — for all of us. I am starting to think maybe I took him for granted."

"Yeah, maybe," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "Best not to think about it, Lin."

"Did I keep him waiting for too long, Gi?"

Gi looked at her with sympathetic eyes but kept her lips closed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood quickly with her hands on her hips, gesturing for Linka to join her.

"Come on," she implored. "If you over-analyse this, you'll go crazy. It is what it is. Let's get your mind off things. Guided tour. You'll soon see why I come around here so much. The guys here…" she fanned her face theatrically and grinned, leaning in close to Linka. "Hot."

* * *

It was remarkable the ingenuity on display as Linka wandered the underground system. She stopped every few hundred feet, checking out something mechanical or otherwise that had sparked her curiosity. The abundance of greenery surprised her, more so that she hadn't noticed it on the way in.

Shrubs and plants grew from the walls of the tunnel, their leaves and foliage trailing down the sides of the walls. Potted trees were scattered around and she also spotted more makeshift garden beds, with people busily tending to them.

Gi led her towards a small garden tucked away in the corner. An attractive african-american woman straightened, arching backwards and rubbing the small of her back.

Dressed in overalls with her curly brown hair tied in a loose bun, the woman suddenly smiled, approaching Gi with open arms. They embraced while Linka watched on shyly.

"Oh, it's my favourite botanist," Gi exclaimed, manoeuvring her hand around into the dirt and checking out a small orange stub belonging to a carrot. "UV lights are working?"

"Yes. I think this batch will last the distance," the woman replied, dusting her hands off and smiling at Linka. Her eyes widened as the woman took confident steps towards her, wrapping her arms around Linka's small frame and hugging her tightly. "Hello, I'm Trissa. You're Linka?"

She nodded shyly as Trissa stepped back, holding Linka's face in her hands as she studied her carefully. Trisha's touch was soft and gentle, and Linka couldn't help feeling at ease.

"It is wonderful to finally meet you. How was your trip from Russia?" she asked warmly. Linka threw a sideways glance towards Gi, who was still bent over the vegetable garden. She pursed her lips and shrugged, leaving Linka to fend for herself.

"Um, good," she said smoothly. "A little bumpy."

"We'll catch you later, Triss," Gi said, giving her a friendly wave as they wandered away. She waited for several moments before turning to Linka. "Sorry. Should have warned you about that."

"I suppose that explanation is better than the alternative," Linka remarked under her breath. "Is that what everyone else thinks?"

"Yep. Just easier," she said. Gi followed Linka's gaze upwards, noting the turbines filtering clean air. "Powered by the wind."

"Why do you stay down here?" Linka asked. They perched themselves on the edge of a bench, watching a group of young men kicking a ball near juncture where two subway tracks converged into one.

"Most of us are underground now, at least in the major cities," Gi explained. "The weather conditions above are pretty bad. Limited sunlight due to the pollution and haze. Nothing grows up there any more. Plus, it's dangerous. We only go above if we have to. Lots of nasties above."

"Oh," Linka commented. She rested her elbows on her knees, leaning forward and enjoying the raucous game. The ball rolled towards them and Gi jumped off, running it over to the players. Linka raised her eyebrows as she watched her friend talk briefly to a tall, muscular man in his mid thirties.

Gi appeared to shake her head at something he whispered in her ear. The ball changed hands with a touch that lingered a little longer than necessary. Linka smiled as Gi headed back, her shiny mane bouncing with each step.

"Boyfriend?" Linka asked, a delighted expression on her face.

"Not really, no," Gi replied, leaned forward with a knowing smile. "As I said… Now you know why I come around here so much."

* * *

The next three days were a blur. Ma-Ti failed to show up the next day as Gi had predicted, but Kwame didn't seem worried at all. Time seemed to exist in a rather relaxed manner here. He had explained that it was sometimes necessary to delay trips due to weather, or if the CB frequencies picked up evidence of raider activity or Blight's cronies in the vicinity.

So Linka resigned herself to spending her time meeting dozens of people whose names she had no hope of remembering. Learning the rules and routines of living in a subterranean environment. She was allocated a job and worked with Grace; sorting rations and distributing them.

She learnt that everyone was assigned a task or job here and if anyone had a problem, they were free to leave. Linka also discovered that Kwame seemed to be the unofficial leader of this mini-city. All decisions seemed to pass through him and everybody looked towards Kwame with a sense of respectful reverence.

Things seemed to run smoothly, here. Days were spent pottering around in the stock-room, or assisting Trissa and Gi with the gardens. Nights were spent under candle light, sitting around and talking in a large group. On Linka's third night underground, Tyreece had brought along some home-made vodka, offering Linka the first glass.

Linka had thrown caution to the wind. She accepted the offer, figuring that after the week she'd had, she deserved it. Downing the shot, she scrunched her face up and gagged, doubled over and earning a chorus of laughter in the process.

"Cleans your insides out, doesn't it?" Tyreece said, patting her on the back as she regained her composure. "Want another?"

She wiped her face, considering her options. But right now, there were no potential eco-alerts to prepare for, no commitments and no concern for her reputation. She didn't know these people but they were genuinely friendly and welcoming.

" _Da_ ," she said huskily, holding the glass out and knowing she'd be paying for it tomorrow. "Go for it."


	18. Chapter 18

Groaning loudly, Linka attempted to roll over onto her side. Unable to move, she flopped the quilt up to her chin and rubbed a shaky hand over her eyes and face. A dull ache throbbed through her temples and her stomach was swirling violently.

_Too much vodka._

Blinking sleepily, she resettled, focusing instead on the appearance of a pair of large work boots hanging over the edge of the bed.

_Did I leave those there?_

Her hung-over brain couldn’t explain the presence of the shoes and she again attempted to shift her body slightly. Her legs were pinned, however — and it was then that she noted the pair of legs that that the boots were attached to, lying heavily across her calves.

She sat up quickly and a wave of dizziness struck her. A man was sitting propped against wall. He appeared asleep, his chin resting on his chest. His dark brown hair was cut quite short. One of his hands lay palm-up next to her leg and the other hand was clutching her own.

Glancing down, she noted the worn leather bands around his wrist and the red fabric tied tightly around his upper arm. He was tall and thin, almost wiry with smooth olive skin that had darkened over the years.

_Ma-Ti._

Hangover forgotten, her heart leapt and she grinned in spite of herself. Tugging gently on Ma-Ti's hand, she watched as his eyes flew open, disorientated for a moment and confused until his gaze settled on her.

"My legs are going to sleep," she said softly. His eyes went wide and he rubbed his face, looking equal parts delighted and overwhelmed.

"Hello, my beautiful friend," he whispered, shuffling his body up the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He held her close, dropping a kiss against her sleep-tousled hair. His voice was unsteady, breaking slightly. "Oh God, look at you."

She squeezed him back, thrilled to see his face. "Hello."

After a while, he reluctantly let go. Giving her a watery smile, he looked her over. "Sorry I am late. Takes a while to get anywhere these days."

"I have noticed," she said, taking the opportunity to inspect him closer. "Was it dangerous?"

"Oh, um… it was fine until I crossed over the border," he remarked, clearing his throat. He seemed flustered and emotional, staring at her with such intensity that she had to look away. Ma-Ti seemed to shake himself before taking her hand again. He gave her another tight smile. “We had to have our wits about us after the border."

"You came with others?" 

He nodded, running his index finger over her ring. “ Yes. We never travel alone. That's a good way to disappear."

"Oh.” Suddenly self-conscious about her appearance, she ran a hand through her hair and adjusted the plaid button-up shirt she was wearing as pyjamas.

"Enough about that." Ma-Ti patted her hand, gazing at her profile again and studying Linka — as if commiting her features to memory . "I have missed you. WE have missed you."

"You look so different," she offered. She beamed at him as he repositioned himself, settling beside her and clutching her hand again.

"Yes, well age tends to do that to you," he laughed softly. "Kwame and Gi have already filled me in on what has happened. How are you feeling?"

"Like a rat in a maze," Linka lamented, leaning back and peering at him curiously. "I keep expecting to wake up."

"I can understand that," he said kindly. He squeezed her thigh, before pushing himself of the bed and standing in front of her. He gazed down at her for a moment, his eyes looking suspiciously bright. He cleared his throat again. "I'll go. I'll let you wake up properly. Just… just had to see you for myself."

"Okay," she said. Linka raised her hand as he ducked quickly out through the doorway. "Bye."

* * *

 "Just like old times!" Gi exclaimed. She squeezed Linka's feet —currently laying across her lap — and munched happily on a carrot from Trissa's garden.

"Not really, Gi," Ma-Ti commented. He narrowed his eyes, motioning around him. "Quite a few differences, now."

"What do you miss the most?" Kwame's deep voice rumbled from his position on the floor. He was sitting beside his wife, propped up within a grungy beach chair. Trissa sat cross-legged beside him, peeling a small apple and taking small bites. "What is the one thing you would want if you had access to it?

"Music," Trissa said softly. "I miss music. Just being able to listen to a CD, or a song. Being able to zone out."

The others nodded in agreement. Linka sighed, curling up against the back of the sofa and levelling her gaze on Gi's hands — currently rubbing the soles of her feet with her thumbs while she chatted.

Linka found it unusual that whenever Gi was in her presence, her friend displayed the tendency to keep her within arm's reach: often holding or touching her in some manner. Overly tactile, Gi seemed to draw comfort in keeping her close.

Not that Linka was complaining. She had now been away from home for over a week and was still shell-shocked by the events that had unfolded.

Discussion continued around her but Linka's thoughts drifted instead to the Planeteers she had left behind. She wondered — not for the first time — where they were and what they were currently doing. Were they still on Hope Island? Were they grieving? Did they think she was dead?

Her shoulders slumped in despair. The helplessness was the hardest thing — that she lacked the ability to communicate the fact that she was okay. Banged-up, sore and a little rattled — but she was okay.

A flare of anger rose as her thoughts turned to Barbara Blight. She wondered again what future Blight wanted with her.

She sighed, frustrated that she didn't have all the answers — and she suspected that Kwame and the others were being selective about what they were choosing to divulge. They were definitely withholding information. Keeping things to themselves.

Noticing that Gi was watching her, she settled the side of her face on the sofa cushion and smiled back, focusing in on the conversation again.

"Fast food," another voice piped up from the shadows. "Burgers. Fries. Drive thru."

"Freedom," Grace commented from her spot on the floor. She leaned back, stretching her legs out. "Just the ability to do what you want, when you want."

"I miss takin' a walk outside without someone tryin' to end me," Tyreece said. He hunched forward, eyeing Kwame. "Seriously. We did a hunt for supplies last week and the amount of crazies runnin' around up there scares the shit outta me. We were damn lucky gettin' this one," he added, nodding towards Linka.

"Getting worse," Gi said with a frown. "How long has it been since you had any unwelcome visitors here?"

"A few months," Kwame replied. His eyes settled on Linka. "I think we are about due for more, in all honesty."

"We'll be ready for 'em," Tyreece remarked. He drew his knees up to his chin, the light from the lantern reflected in his eyes. "Let 'em try."

The group fell into an uneasy silence.

* * *

 

Night time soon descended. Linka had spent part of her day catching up with Ma-Ti. She had learnt that he had returned to his tribe in Brazil after disbanding, but he made the pilgrimage north every few months to come and help out. It appeared it was just the populated, industrialised areas of South America that had retained the most damage, the same as the US.

Ma-Ti was unsure of the fate of other countries. Communication had broken down. Linka's thoughts turned to Mishka and her grandmother, wondering how they had fared. Feeling helpless at her inability to check on her family.

Yet Kwame had said that her future self had returned to Russia to be with them. She took comfort in that thought.

The rest of the day had been spent either in the store, or casting nervous glances towards the manhole tunnel, silently willing the last piece of the puzzle to saunter on in, cracking a joke about the poor housekeeping. Complaining that he was hungry. Dazzling her with that ever-present grin and catching her in a sneaky cuddle when she least expected it.

She smiled to herself. Regardless of his marital status, she found herself craving his presence and his company.

Gi was missing in action for part of the day. Grace's company was just as good however, and she found herself very at ease within her company. Linka learnt that Grace was originally from Philadelphia, she was twenty-seven and single.

Like Linka, she had no idea about the fate of her own family on the east coast, but was hoping that eventually she would be able to head over and search for them herself. Eventually.

* * *

 "Running low," Grace said, bending over and peering into the wheat drum. "Maybe a week's worth."

Grace surfaced quickly and Linka did her best to withhold a smile — Grace's forehead and nose were coated in white dust. Linka directed her attention to the powdery smudges and Grace grinned, wiping them off with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Did you have a partner? A boyfriend — before this," Linka asked. Grace shook her head, making way for several containers of crops that were wheeled in. They immediately worked to unpack them.

"Nah. I moved away from Philly to be with a guy, but it didn't work out." She smiled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Met a lot of good friends, so I stayed. I liked it here — at least until everyone lost their minds."

Linka frowned, but let the comment go. "No one here that you are interested in?"

She laughed. "The good ones are taken and the rest —"

"Are no good?" Linka volunteered and Grace shook her head.

"No, it's not that," she said, sighing. "I dunno. No-one here that I'm really interested in."

They packed away the last of the items and marked off the daily inventory. Strolling back to the bedroom, they talked in low voices. Linka scanned the public areas for any sign of Gi but found nothing.

She sighed, entering the small room and dropping onto the bottom bunk. She watched Grace haul herself heavily to the top, having decided to reclaim her room but adamant in her offer for Linka to remain. A rustling noise sounded from within the mattress above and Grace's hand and arm suddenly appeared, dangling with something brown gripped within her fingers.

"Hersheys?" Linka asked, her eyes wide as she reached for the candy bar. "Where did you get this?"

"Ty found a case of 'em in the trunk of a car last week on the highway," Grace explained. "Needless to say, we're not declaring them. Don't tell Kwame."

" _Spasiba_ ," Linka grinned, opening the wrapper and placing a square into her mouth. "I won't. It is good."

"Tell me about it," Grace remarked with a laugh. "Who needs sex when you've got chocolate?"

* * *

 "Where have you been?" Linka asked, feeling the bedsprings lurch under Gi's weight. She flinched as Gi climbed over her unsteadily, taking her position against the wall as she had done for the past week.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "A few of us got talking. Lost track of time."

Linka smiled. "It is not like you have working watches anymore," she said in a low voice and Gi chuckled.

"True." Gi breathed out, relaxing and pressing the front of her body against Linka's back. "How're you feeling?"

"All right, I guess," she replied tiredly, squeezing her hand. They settled into sleep. Linka sighed, listening to Grace's steady breathing above them. "Have you been with your soccer-player friend?

"No!" Gi replied a little too quickly, and Linka could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. "Jose and I are just friends."

"Oh," Linka replied, her tone teasing. She'd spotted them together a few times now, once in a passionate embrace and she had been absolutely delighted, assuming her friend was seeing him and perhaps just shy about spilling the details. "You two look much friendlier that that."

Gi didn't reply — simply squeezed her hand and nudged her forehead against the back of Linka's head.

Gi's breathing slowed and Linka lay quietly, listening to the low voices passing by the curtain until she began to drift off.

* * *

 The sound of a foot striking the base of the wrought iron bunk roused Linka from sleep. She blinked, rubbing her face and wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Shuffling noises, then a heavy weight dropped onto the bed she was sharing with Gi. It was pitch black but Linka could smell the alcohol on his breath. Her eyes widened and she tensed immediately. She felt the figure shift closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, obviously mistaking her for the sleeping girl on the other side.

Flipping over and reaching forward, she dug her fingers into Gi's ribs, hissing her name until she stirred, mumbling under her breath. It didn't take her long to figure out what had happened.

"Shit," Gi hissed. She fumbled, attempting to light the wick beside her bed. succeeding on the third attempt. Gi jumped to her feet, pulling and ushering the man out.

Linka sat upright, her hair framing her face in messy waves as she got a better view of the intruder. She watched them disappear, whispering in low voices. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed towards the doorway.

The man who had dropped into their bed was definitely not Gi's soccer player.

* * *

 The words "woefully out of his depth" had never really entered Bleak's vocabulary.

Yet here he was. Stuck in this hell-hole with no weapons, no allies and no fucking clue.

He'd trailed Blondie and the Earth dude for some time, careful not to give away his presence. He'd come close to losing their trail twice but had persevered, blind luck leading him in the right direction until he'd spotted the stragglers at the tail-end of the pack.

He was starving, weak and exhausted. What was worse was that he needed to stay alert. The days were unrelenting being out in the elements, but the nights were downright frightening. Big, strong Argos Bleak hated to admit that to himself.

Noises would echo through the pitch-black darkness. Rustling. Dragging sounds. Occasionally rough voices and dim lights dancing in the distance. He'd heard something on the first night away from the scavenger camp. He'd been huddled at the base of an abandoned vehicle in the mall parking lot, in view of the mall the others had disappeared into. Bleak had awoken to a blood-curdling scream close by.

Goosebumps had broken out. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. He'd gripped the upholstery, frozen in fear and waiting for something to follow. Anything. But silence had descended again as he peered out the windows, watching as shaky beams of light illuminated the area around the parking lot. He hunkered back down again, curling into a foetal position and willing himself to calm the fuck down. Eventually the dancing light beams subsided and he fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

 Bleak kept out of sight once Linka and her rescuers entered the substation. He spotted the sentries posted in the apartment block above and knew he'd end up with an arrow to the back of the head if he even dared approach it.

Feeling content that he at least knew Blondie's location, Bleak spent the next few days lying low. Searching for food. A tin of corn in a restaurant, having rolled under the cold-room shelves. A packet of out-of-date noodles in a car glove compartment.

His desperate searching had also uncovered bodies. Long since dead, he assumed they were victims of the look-outs posted outside. People who had ventured too close to the substation and had been taken down and dragged into the depths of the abandoned buildings.

He slept out of sight, hidden underneath desks or in spaces that granted him protection, but permitted an easy exit if he needed to leave in a hurry.

Bleak had ventured a little further each time, gradually building up a solid knowledge of the area. A visual map.

He was sitting propped comfortably inside a bombed-out cafe, reading a two year old newspaper and pretending this was all so resoundingly _normal_ when he'd heard it. A resounding thump that echoed loudly.

Bleak's mouth dropped open as he turned, peering around the corner of the doorway.

A body lay on the other side of the road, broken and very-obviously dead. He glanced upwards at the sentry window, knowing the positioning of the body meant that the victim had taken a swan-dive from the top floor.

Something was wrong.

A sharp cry from above startled him again. He squinted, trying to get an angle on things but the distance was too far. He could see nothing and could no longer hear anything.

It was now or never. Bleak took the chance and exited the cafe. He edged around the store-front, ducking into an alley and froze. Three figures had suddenly appeared on the other side of the street.

They slipped inside and it took Bleak a fraction of a second to make the decision. Knowing the remaining sentries would either be dead or preoccupied, he bolted across the street and skidded inside, following them.

He flattened himself against the wall, soon realising he was inside the remains of the apartment block foyer. The elevator doors were stuck in an open position and a man lay dead in front of them. Bleak assumed it was the individual keeping a look-out downstairs.

He doubted the three new arrivals were connected with the bodies — they had turned up well after the first body had hit the ground.

Bleak heard footsteps ascending the fire escape and he entered the doorway; hands clutching the handrail as the noise of shoes on concrete faded. Shouts and scuffling reverberated.

He made his way up, two steps at a time — on edge and half expecting an arrow (or knife) to slice through his flesh at any moment. He slowed as the desperate scuffles gained clarity, no longer muffled but close now.

Edging towards the landing, the fire-door to the top floor was open. A corridor led out into the apartment entrances and he jumped back, spotting a man clutching a knife literally fly through the door of the second apartment from the end. The man hit the hallway wall and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

The knife lay discarded on the ground. Bleak inched towards it, bending down and clutching the weapon tightly within his fist. Flattening himself against the plaster again, he peeked around the side of the doorway and spotted around eight individuals inside the tiny apartment.

One sat in a chair — an injured sentry, Bleak assumed. He held a rag to his bleeding head and was being tended to by another. One man had been wrestled to the ground and was being held securely, snarling abuse.

Another figure was by the window, holding onto the window frame and peering down at the body in the street.

"Spotted 'em around four blocks away," one of the men said, nodding towards the man struggling under his friend's weight. "Had a feeling they were up to no good. Followed them here."

"Thank God you guys came by when you did, Tom," the injured sentry on the chair said, wincing as someone strapped up his injured head. "On a supply run?"

"Nah. Bringin' this one in," he said, jacking his thumb in the direction of the man by the window. "Kwame sent us to meet —"

Bleak didn't catch the end of the sentence.

The floorboards creaked behind him.

_Shit._

Something impacted hard against the back of his head and the force sent Bleak stumbling forward, crashing to the ground. He flipped himself onto his back and raised the knife but the flimsy weapon was kicked away as man they called Tom bore down on him.

"You with them?" A hand shot out and gripped his throat. Tom glared at him, tightening his grip as Bleak attempted to fight him off. "Any more of your little buddies out there?"

"No," Bleak gasped, trying to dislodge Tom's fingers but they held firm. "Not… I'm not…"

"Who are you?" Tom shouted. 

A second shadow loomed over Bleak's face, sensing another presence peering down at him. The man by the window had suddenly appeared, staring down at Bleak in shock.

"His name's Argos Bleak," the man said sharply. 

Bleak's grip on Tom's wrist slackened, distracted now as he stared at the newcomer. Bleak's eyes swept over the red stubble covering the man's face and neck; his eyes hidden beneath a baseball cap.

Nonetheless, a flicker of recognition passed through him.

"Who?"

The man in the baseball cap was tall and well-built; dressed warmly in cargo pants and a sweatshirt. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he shook his head, seemingly incredulous. Scarcely believing what he was seeing.

"It's freakin' Argos Bleak," he growled; his Brooklyn twang unmistakable.

"You sure? How do you know him?" another asked.

The man removed his hat, revealing tousled red hair and piercing blue eyes. Bleak stopped struggling as the Firebug crouched down on his haunches, glaring at him.

"Because I never forget a jackass."


	19. Chapter 19

"Blight sent 'em, no doubt." 

Wheeler nodded, watching as the two intruders in front were man-handled down the fire escape. One struggling and one unconscious, they were steered (or dragged) by the remaining apartment look-outs into the street and quickly disappeared around the corner. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out what their fate would be.

Tom grunted, struggling with his own captive. He re-adjusted his grip on Bleak's elbow — currently bent and twisted behind his back.

"Jesus, go easy," Bleak snapped as he was shoved roughly down the stairs. He glared over his shoulder at Tom. "Hey, I'm a victim here. Red can vouch for me."

"Shut up," Tom hissed. He rolled his eyes, pushing Bleak into the apartment foyer. Wheeler descended behind the quarrelling pair, looking on with a certain amount of satisfaction as Tom slammed Bleak against the wall. The pair continued to trade insults with one another, openly hostile and neither verbally backing down.

Wheeler remained silent, ignoring the exchange and heading for the blown-out windows near the double entry doors. He stared ahead at the substation across the street — a wave of apprehension hitting him. He punched it back, willing himself to calm down.

"They in there?"

"Yeah," Tom said, nodding in the direction of the derelict building. "There's an entrance at the base, just gotta throw open the cover." He glanced in the direction of the injured sentry. "Communication down?"

"Yeah," the injured sentry replied. The guy trod carefully down the stairwell, clutching his forehead and held upright by the other member of Wheeler's travelling welcome wagon — Sam. "They fried the radio."

"Great," Tom muttered, scratching his forehead. He kicked the wall in frustration, swearing loudly. Bleak turned his head, opening his mouth to say something and found himself slammed back into the wall again, smashing his face against the crumbling surface.

Wheeler had met Sam and Tom at the Nevada/California border. Sam was a middle-aged guy with a moustache. Nice enough. On the quiet side, which had suited Wheeler fine.

Tom was an arrogant, smart-ass prick with a bad attitude and a major superiority complex. Wheeler had taken an instant dislike to him, but they'd made the trip to meet him and since he had no clue where Kwame was located, Wheeler wasn't really in a position to complain.

Seven days to travel cross country. Avoiding the main roads and cities on his own. Twice coming perilously close to not arriving at all — yet what worried Wheeler most was currently 50 feet below the substation he was staring at.

He'd been storing the gasoline away for three years now, hoping to hell the pager-looking device remained red. He'd been stunned to roll over in bed one night, noting that the light bathing the walls of his bedroom had changed to luminescent green.

Two calls over the radio — one to confirm things with Kwame, the other to his brother-in-law down the road. He'd packed and left before sunrise the next morning, but not before leaving hushed murmurs and quietly-spoken words with the loved ones still curled-up in bed.

Two close calls on the way over — the first when he'd broken down in Kansas on a desolated back road. He'd lost half a day tinkering with the engine but had managed to get going again.

The second occurred after he'd ditched his motorbike near the border, just after meeting up with Kwame's people. They'd come frighteningly close to getting nabbed by a raider team — they regularly patrolled that area.

The plan had always been to walk the remainder of the way. He had no choice, since the main areas of most states were breeding grounds for the ferals, the thieves and the desperate.

Then there were the idiots that chose to remain in the middle of it, vainly trying to return things back to normal.

Wheeler had done his time. Nine years trying to make a difference, only to have it all turn to shit anyway. He was done with it — choosing to live quietly away from the craziness.

He frowned, listening to Tom arguing with one of the others about what to do next. Tom's voice reverberated loudly throughout the square and Wheeler winced, really not wanting to draw attention to their presence.

_In love with the sound of his own damn voice._

Wheeler sighed, approaching Bleak slowly while the others were distracted. He leant against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, eyeing Bleak with disdain. Bleak gritted his teeth, his face still pressed up against the wall under Tom's steady grip.

"You come through with her?" Wheeler asked quietly. "She all right?"

"Yeah," Bleak said. "She's fine. Bit banged up…"

"Did you hurt her?" he asked softly. His blue eyes were blazing, and for a moment Bleak forgot to respond.

"No," he muttered after a moment, tearing away from his gaze. "My new jerk-wad of an associate got a little handsy, but she's fine…"

"He what?" Wheeler's body tensed and he gripped Bleak by the jacket, hauling him away from Tom who stopped mid-conversation, watching the exchange like a hawk. "Who, Kroi?"

"Yeah," Bleak gasped, eyes wide as Wheeler's hand slammed around his throat. "She's fine, he didn't get very far. Jesus."

"You'd better not be…"

"I've gotten Princess out of two tight spots now," he grunted, struggling and Wheeler eventually let him go. Bleak slumped against the wall, coughing as he regained his breath. "Seriously, I just wanna get the fuck outta here. This is insane! I'm not lettin' you little bastards outta my sight!"

"What makes you think I'd —"

"Shut up," Tom hissed. He held his hand out and they quietened, listening to the familiar sounds of tyres crunching over gravel in the distance. "Fuck. You hear that? Is that…?"

"Yeah," Wheeler said, concerned now. He crept towards the front and popped his head around the brickwork. He squinted, unable to see anything approaching. The telltale sounds of engines were definite, however. Wheeler motioned above their heads. "You think Blight sent those guys ahead to take out…"

Wheeler didn't even need to finish the sentence. The look on Tom's face said it all.

They soon heard the pounding of feet against the pavement outside. The apartment look-outs had returned, running full-pelt towards the sub-station and looking distinctly anxious.

One of them skidded to a stop in the street, calling out a warning to Tom and the others, before barging through the door and disappearing inside. 

_Raid._

"Shit," Tom said, inhaling sharply. He grabbed his weapons and slung them over his shoulder, heading back upstairs, intent on taking position. "Take the ladder down and follow the tunnel," he called over his shoulder to Wheeler.

He was already gone. Breaking into a run, Wheeler slipped inside the building with Bleak in hot pursuit.

* * *

"They run on steam," Grace explained, running her fingertips over the generator. It was still quite hot to the touch. The machinery was very old, rusted and rather antiquated. "We have four operating, but only two at a time. They tend to overheat quite easily."

"Someone has obviously modified them," Linka asked, fascinated as she crouched down to take a better look. Grace nodded.

"Yeah, we have an old guy on site who's a mechanic. Rigged them up. Lucky for us he has some knowledge of boilers and old engines."

"Where do you get the water from?" Linka asked, looking around. "You must have a supply close by?"

Yeah," she replied, motioning behind her. "Towards the back of the main tunnel we found some old Department of Water pipes from the 1950's. Leads to an underground reservoir about a mile south of here. We cart the water daily through the pipeline. It's drinkable but we have to boil it first."

"Are they not worried about being flooded?"

"Oh God, no. They've been dormant for years. We just use them to travel back and forth. The reservoir is about half full. No way out though. Once you hit the tank, only place to go is back up the tunnel."

"The water is used for the generators too?"

"Yeah. The extra condensation is collected and fed back into the gardens." Grace smiled, running her hand through her hair and tilting her head. "Waste not, want not."

Linka smiled back. She had to admit she really liked Grace. The girl had a sweet disposition and a very dark sense of humour — in spite of the circumstances.

She sat quietly, legs crossed on the suspension bridge and content to watch Grace replace the water and tighten the belt wrapped around the turbine. Grace hummed quietly to herself and Linka's gaze eventually flitted downwards, observing the people wandering around on the level below her.

A commotion sounded to her right and they both froze, glancing in the direction of the manhole tunnel. Three men came hurtling out — two bolting past the girls and disappearing into the crowd downstairs. The third skidded to a halt in front of a large cow bell mounted to the rocky outcrop.

Linka gestured towards the commotion. "Do you  —"

"Yeah," Grace breathed, narrowing her eyes. Silent and watchful.

Linka remained cross-legged, her mouth slightly agape as the man grabbed an attached metal bar and began to hammer the bell loudly, shouting at the top of his lungs.

She felt small hands tugging her upright and she scrambled to her feet, tripping as Grace dragged her downstairs.

"What…" she gasped, glancing back in fear. "What is going on?"

"Alarm," Grace muttered, her voice tight. "We're gonna have company. I gotta get my stuff."

Linka's eyes took in everything around her. The crowds downstairs had quickly dissipated. Like a well-oiled machine, the main areas were surprisingly hushed as people quickly gathered weapons and took positions. Linka had the distinct feeling that this scenario had been rehearsed — or carried out — many times before today.

"I have to find Kwame," she said worriedly, pausing in the doorway to Grace's bedroom. Grace grabbed her bow and quivers, tossing them over her shoulders before retrieving a knife tucked deep within her mattress. She held it out to Linka.

"Just in case you need…"

" _Nyet_." Linka shook her head, running her thumb over her ring; refusing to take the weapon. "I will not need it."

"All right," Grace muttered, unhappy with her decision but choosing not to pursue it. "Stay behind me."

They darted out and kept close to the walls, passing people as they hurried through. Linka paused, hearing her name echoing from behind her. She turned, spotting Ma-Ti's head bobbing behind some heavily-armed residents. Feeling Ma-Ti's hand settle on the back of her neck, he urged her forward.

"Kwame wants you in the air ducts for now. They have both entrances blocked, so we cannot leave."

"Are they coming for me?" Linka asked, the anxiety evident in her voice. Grace jogged back in the direction they'd just come from and Linka's eyes followed her retreating figure. "Is it Blight? This is  _psikh_ , I have my ring! I can —"

"Don't argue," he whispered urgently. "Just go."

He gripped her shoulder, steering her towards a narrow passageway. They both jumped in fright as a loud explosion reverberated around them. Linka stopped abruptly, hearing screams coming from in the direction of the manhole tunnel.

"Oh God, they are already here."

"Linka, move!" He shoved her forward, almost roughly.

"Ma-Ti, I have my power, here! I can —"

"Kwame wants you in the duct. It is not worth the risk, my friend," he panted, sweat starting to break out over his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The passage became difficult to negotiate. The floodlights from the generator could barely illuminate the way due to the distance, and Linka found herself staggering around crates and boxes lying around. She barely avoided tripping, but Ma-Ti held her steady. The area widened once again, ending in a small room housing mostly trash and timber pallets, lying stacked upon one another.

A metal grate was visible running along the far wall. Tainted and rusted through in parts, she watched as Ma-Ti gripped the panel and heaved. It swung open on hinges, hitting the wall loudly and she winced.

"In," he said, ushering her inside. Ducking down, Linka crawled forwards on her hands and knees, stopping to question him further but Ma-Ti shook his head. "Keep going."

She sighed, scooting further along to make room. Ma-Ti pulled the grate closed and tucked his body up as tightly as possible.

"Just like old times," he whispered, craning his neck and peering through the angled metal blades.

"I do not remember anything like this," she muttered, feeling anxious and worried. Heart thumping loudly in her chest, Linka tensed as another loud blast issued from close by. More cries and shouts, and she clenched her fists, frustrated at the fact she was being made to hide. The humidity inside was rising and she wiped her brow. "I cannot see a thing."

Tucking her elbows against her chest due to the confined space, she attempted to resettle herself and the metal enclosure groaned and creaked around their bodies.

"Sorry," she whispered, wincing. She sensed movement nearby and she stilled, gripping Ma-Ti's knee a little too tightly. "Someone is —"

"Shhh," he warned. Ma-Ti held his hand up, pressing his face against the the grate. The steady hum from the generators had abruptly stopped, bathing the tunnels in absolute darkness. Linka held her breath, hoping her eyes would acclimatise.

They sat in silence for five minutes, the feeling of dread prickling away slowly. She felt another small explosion and the sounds of scraping; almost as if hands were passing blindly over the rock walls towards them.

Linka raised her ring, ready to blow away whoever dared come near them.

"Guys? Are you here?" someone whispered and Linka blinked, recognising the voice immediately despite the darkness. Ma-Ti reached out and lowered Linka's ring hand gently, using the other to rap lightly on the metal to indicate that they were there. The grate swung open and another presence climbed in.

"We're getting creamed out there," Gi said, regaining her breath. "Kwame said to follow the duct until we get to a T-intersection, then turn right. Apparently there's a hole further along that'll drop us into the stormwater drains. He wants us to wait for him there."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," Linka muttered. Enclosed spaces were not really her thing. Manoeuvring herself back onto her hands and knees again, she crawled onwards, relying on nothing but her wits and blindly searching hands to guide her way. "Are you sure?"

"No idea," Gi whispered back. "Didn't even know this was here until ten minutes ago."

They made their way slowly, inching their way through the darkness. The venting system narrowed somewhat and Linka whimpered, flattening herself and squeezing through a jagged section. Her hand brushed against something dry and oily. She recoiled, bumping her head and stifling sobs. "Oh God, what was that?"

"Keep going, Lin," Gi whispered from behind. "It's all right."

"I cannot see a thing," she moaned back towards her friends. " _Bozhe moy_ , I cannot do this, I want to go back."

"It's all right, Linka. You can do it," Ma-Ti said, squeezing her ankle encouragingly. "It cannot be too far now."

Linka doubted he'd even knew how far they had to go but she swore quietly under her breath, pushing on despite the claustrophobia. Another dry thing brushed against her fingers, the skin leathery under her touch and the scent of rotting flesh assaulted her. She groaned, clutching her mouth with one hand and dragging herself quickly with the other.

"Ugh," she heard Gi moan from behind her. "What the hell?"

Linka turned to say something back to her but the words died on her lips. A slight decline in the shaft turned into a sudden drop and Linka squealed as the momentum picked up. Unable to see where she was going, all she could do was hold her hands out in front of her as she crashed into the base with a resounding thump.

"Are you all right?" Ma-Ti asked sharply. "Are you at the intersection?"

Linka moaned in response. Her breathing was ragged, tears falling freely. She was petrified, desperate to escape this prison. She slumped, breathing in shallow gasps, unable to draw enough oxygen into her lungs.

"Linka?" Ma-Ti pushed himself over the crest and slid down to meet her. He found her crumpled in the same position she'd landed in and grabbed onto her ankle. "Move over to the left for a moment so I can get past," he said soothingly.

She nodded, sniffling and puling herself aside. She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder as he moved ahead.

"All right, girls?" His voice echoed softly through the darkness. "Not the first time I've gotten us out of a tight space."

"Oh Jesus," Gi muttered under her breath and Linka managed a weak smile through her tears. "Comedian."

"I can hear water," Ma-Ti grunted. He pushed himself forward and Linka could now hear it too. "Hey, I think —"

She froze as Ma-Ti gave a strangled yelp. She reached out blindly, trying to grab his ankle but the downward momentum was too great.

A large splash sounded from below and she heard Ma-Ti's surprised voice yell. Linka's fingernails gripped the jagged edges of the metal and she hauled herself over the hole. She could hear rushing water and splashing, along with Ma-Ti's voice ebbing and eventually disappearing.

Reaching out blindly with her hand, she soon realised the ventilation shaft was directly over the top of the storm water pipe. There were large holes in both, allowing access into the flowing water below.

"Gi," she cried, frightened and unsure on what action to take. "Gi? What do I do?"

"Kwame said it was safe," Gi said, but she seemed apprehensive.

"I'm okay." A faint voice floated up and Linka swallowed nervously. "Come on down."

" _Dyermo_ ," Linka swore. Wanting to avoid plunging in head-first, she reached for the other side of the shaft and wriggled inside until her legs were dangling over the water. She took a deep breath and dropped down, sinking feet-first into the black abyss.

* * *

Linka swam to the surface, coughing and spluttering as she regained her composure.

"Let us never do that again," Ma-Ti muttered, treading water nearby. Linka swam towards him, relieved beyond words that filtered light was evident here. The drain was massive and the current fast-moving. Another splash sounded behind her and Linka knew that Gi had dropped from the pipe.

They made their way towards an access point that led to a narrow platform. Ma-Ti grabbed the rails and climbed out, grabbing Linka's hand and hauling her out of the water.

"God, I'm gonna kill him," Gi choked as she surfaced. "Kwame told me it was a small drop. That had to be twenty feet."

She swam towards them and they grabbed an arm each, pulling her up and over. They sat on the edge, panting and shivering against the cold.

"What happened?" Ma-Ti asked, stripping off his shirt and wringing the water out of it.

"Lambert," Gi said. She hunched over, gritting her teeth and favoring her side. For the first time, Linka realised she was injured. "There were about a dozen of them. Took out the guards outside before they arrived. We had no warning."

"Are you all right?" Linka asked as Gi lifted her shirt, revealing red, mottled skin beneath.

"Yeah," she said, grimacing and holding her hand against her battered flesh. "Took a baton to the ribs."

They sat expectantly, huddled together and waiting for Kwame to fall into the depths below. Linka wiped her hand over her face, burrowing into Ma-Ti for warmth as she watched the pipe expel gallons of water — but no Kwame.

* * *

"Maybe we should go," Ma-Ti voiced quietly, and Linka stirred, blinking up at him. "It is getting dark. We may not be able to find our way out."

"Kwame said to wait," Gi replied tiredly. She sighed, sitting slumped against the wall. "I don't know. Kwame said to wait."

Linka lay across her lap, watching the water flow downwards. Tremors wracked her body every now and then and she tucked herself up tighter, feeling wet and miserable.

"Should have been here by now," Ma-Ti voiced, but the thought was unnecessary. They were all thinking the same thing.

"We'll give him a little more time." Gi wrapped her arms around Linka, doing her best to warm her up. "God, I hope they're okay up there."

"I'm sure they're—"

Something hit the water in front of them and Ma-Ti leaned forward, eyes alert now as Kwame's head bobbed to the surface. He shook the droplets from his head and paddled towards them. Gi squeezed Linka's shoulders, gently motioning for her to sit up.

Gi and Ma-Ti quickly scrambled to their feet and stood on the edge, helping Kwame onto the platform. He sat heavily and sagged sideways, too exhausted to speak.

"What happened?" Gi cried. "You took so —"

Another body hit the water and Linka leapt to her feet. They weren't expecting anyone else. She raised her ring as a bald head appeared, bobbing along the choppy water.

"Bleak!" she exclaimed, shocked to see him. She got down onto her knees, leaning forward as he swam over to her. "Bleak, what are you —"

"Fucking future!" he shouted, his voice unnaturally high. Bleak waved an arm around angrily, sending water flying towards Linka as she held her hand out. "Fuckin' done with all of this! Fuck!”

"What are you doing here? How did you… What happened?"

He ignored her outstretched hand, pulling himself out on his own. He dropped onto the cement with loud groan and a wet slap. "God-damn crazy people here."

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, looking him over, and he laughed, bitter and humourless.

"Oh, I am so far from all right, Blondie." He ran a hand over his scalp before dropping onto his back tiredly. "God-damn massacre up there."

"Did you come here with Lambert? How did you get here?"

"How did I get here?" He laughed again bitterly, throwing his arms around as he caught his breath. "Time-travelin' mad scientist, ya —"

"You know what I —"

"Jesus," he muttered. He sat up, motioning his hand towards the others. "You wanna fill her in, or should I, Pyro?"

Linka's body went rigid. She flattened her palms against the ground, realising there was a third new arrival. She hadn't heard the splash; too preoccupied with seeing Bleak again. Linka's eyes scanned the area frantically, at last spotting him standing on the other side of Kwame, watching her quietly.

_Wheeler._

Her breath caught in her throat.

The posture was the same — hands buried in his pockets, shoulders slumped. He was broader than she remembered, a little more heavily set but it suited him. Stubble covered his neck and face, and his hair lay plastered across his forehead in dark-red patches. His skin was pale from the cold but his eyes were still the same shade of striking vivid-blue.

She gave a little gasp — her heart pounding hard in her chest. Scrambling to her feet, Linka stumbled forward but he made no move to approach her. On the contrary, he dropped his gaze to the floor. He seemed rooted to the spot, almost indecisive. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and she lost sight of him for a moment as Gi helped Kwame to his feet.

And then Linka was running — feet squelching wetly in her shoes, wet hair lying lankly against her face. She rounded the others and threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and squirming as close as her body would allow. He staggered backwards as her weight hit him.

Wheeler remained tense; hands still buried within in his pockets. Eventually he relented, wrapping a loose arm around her waist. She let her body sag, her muscles becoming loose and unyielding. A moan escaped her lips and she pressed her mouth against the pulse at the base of his throat, tightening her hold around his neck and crying silent tears of relief.

Because for the first time in a week, she felt whole. 

She felt like she was home.


	20. Chapter 20

They walked underground for half the day, cold and shivering. Linka gripped Wheeler's hand tightly for part of the journey, refusing to let go.

He was still tense, and seemed detached from the conversation going on around him. A nod here, a glance there. For the most part, he kept his eyes trained on the ground as she tugged him onwards. In all honesty, she was so thrilled to see him that she was willing to push aside the fact that he seemed emotionally distant. Aloof.

She found herself babbling incessantly, overcompensating for the fact that he was too damn quiet. He'd hardly spoken since she'd first laid eyes on him in the drain. She continually glanced upwards, gazing at his profile. Overjoyed to see him and longing for something from him. Something familiar — anything that demonstrated comfort and concern and affection and kindness, his usual traits that she was so desperately craving.

But she was met with stony silence. Eventually, he withdrew from her grip entirely and walked on ahead, catching up with Kwame. They walked side by side, talking in quiet voices and leaving Linka and Ma-Ti trailing behind.

Linka's face reflected the complete bewilderment she was feeling and she lowered her gaze. Her face flushed despite the cold and she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling Ma-Ti's arm settle around her shoulders.

* * *

Kwame seemed to have a plan. They passed over into the disused sewer pipes and exited via an underground concourse. Weaving their way up the ramp, Linka found herself in a recreation area, once no doubt a bustling park filled with the sounds of excited children.

She glanced at the swings; slides and picnic tables laying overturned in the long grass. A covered barbecue area was nearby — the cooktops ripped out and abandoned under a copse of elm trees. It was an eerie sight.

Another few hours above-ground. Linka was having to force herself to lift her feet, for fear of tripping over her toes. Energy levels depleted — she was exhausted. Blisters had formed due to the ill-fitting shoes she was wearing but she soldiered on regardless.

The sun had just set and Kwame seemed in a hurry. They picked up the pace, staying close to the sidewalk and practically running to catch up with him. Linka could hear Bleak breathing heavily just in front of her, looking as completely out of his depth as she was.

"San Fernando," Kwame said, urging them to stay close. They were in what seemed like a wealthy area. Linka took in the eight foot fences, overgrown hedging and imposing homes as she passed. "We have several houses across the state set up as safe-points for our supply runs. No one wants to be stuck out in the open after the sun goes down. Too dangerous."

"Christ," Bleak said, annoyed. "Woulda' been nice to know that earlier."

"My heart bleeds for ya, Bleak," Wheeler muttered and Linka looked up, eyes wide and gazing at the back of the American's head with a growing sense of unease.

"Here," Kwame said, motioning towards a driveway to their left. He snapped off some dry foliage from the shrubs bordering the fence line. Pushing the hedge aside, they took turns passing through a hidden hole cut into the fence. They emerged within what would once have been carefully, manicured grounds. The grass now was up to their waists and they waded through it towards the house.

Shit," Bleak cried out, stumbling as his foot struck a bird bath hidden within. He hobbled onwards, continuing to curse under his breath.

Linka stopped beside Gi, folding her arms against the chill and watching as Kwame slid a basement window open. He swung a leg over and climbed inside, followed closely by the others.

They headed to the lowest point. The sun had long since set and Linka pressed her hands against the walls, descending blindly. She gripped onto Gi's shoulders tightly. After a moment a small flame flickered and Kwame's face lit up.

"The house has an underground bunker built in. We'll be safe. The owners were survivalists, so they were well stocked."

"Owner's aren't here, though," Bleak commented drily. "All that planning didn't end up gettin' 'em anywhere."

Kwame grunted. He leaned forward, dragging a metal canister over and dropped the kindling inside. Using the small flame he'd struck upon entry, he started stoking the fire as Gi approached Wheeler.

"Missed your face, Pyro," she whispered, winding her arms around Wheeler and embracing him tightly. There were tears in her eyes and she dashed them away hastily. "It's been too long."

"Yeah," he said, drawing the word out slowly. A flare of hot jealousy swept through Linka as she watched them; heads close together and speaking to one another in hushed tones. He returned the hug briefly before she patted his cheek and wandered away, tutting quietly at Kwame and dragging him away from the fire and towards a plastic chair.

Wheeler sunk to the floor, propped against a stack of newspapers. Linka could see the dark circles under his eyes and his face looked worn and hagged in the firelight. Regardless of his discomfort from earlier, she took a seat beside him, intent on keeping him close. "What now?" she asked softly.

"We will head back in a few days," Kwame replied. "Lay low, until we figure out what we are going to do."

"I had my ring, Kwame," Linka said sharply. "I could have —"

"One element with the rest of us defenceless, Linka," Kwame replied. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with tired eyes. "Remaining underground with plenty of people for Lambert to use as bargaining chips — to draw you out. I made a decision and I am standing by it."

Linka glanced nervously at Ma-Ti, remembering the sound of the bullet impacting on his younger-self's leg. She bit her lip, flushing pink.

"I have told Tyreece that we will wait it out until they can regain control," Kwame said. He shrugged out of his jacket, wincing as Gi fussed about him.

"If they regain control," Gi said.

"We've done it before," he replied tiredly. He swatted away Gi's hand. "Ow, Gi. Enough."

"Quit grumblin'," she replied, scrutinising the swollen skin carefully. "You're lucky you didn't lose your eye."

"I nearly did," he lamented, evidently angry with himself. "I was jumped by three of Blight's men. They would have taken me out if Wheeler hadn't have turned up when he did."

"Was Blight there?" Gi asked and Linka glanced up from her position on the floor.

"I do not think so. I did not see her," Kwame spoke. He nodded towards Linka. "She rarely shows her face."

"There's a reason for that," Bleak replied, hidden away in the corner. "Ugly all day. You guys gonna fill us in on what the fuck happened here?"

"Tomorrow." Kwame slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. "I think that is enough excitement for one day."

Linka pulled her sweatshirt off, stripping down to her singlet as she watched Gi settle herself beside the fire. Ma-Ti positioned himself beside the door.

She twisted, intent on tucking herself under Wheeler's arm but her plan had already been thwarted. He lay stretched out on the floor, curled up with his back to her. His breathing was slow and steady.

With a disappointed glance in his direction, Linka dropped down onto her side and rested her head against the damp sweatshirt.

* * *

They had all slept quite late after their fifteen mile hike the day before. Linka stirred, hearing conversation going on around her and she rolled onto her back, rubbing her eyes. Stomach rumbling, her mouth was also quite dry due to dehydration.

"Found this place by accident," Kwame said in hushed tones to Ma-Ti. "We were venturing out a little further every month and this was our second trip into San Fernando. A few of the guys ran into some trouble and managed to scale the fence. Broke inside to hide and found the bunker wide open and fully stocked."

"You didn't take the supplies back with you?" Ma-Ti asked.

Kwame shook his head, digging into a box on a high shelf and tossing something to Ma-Ti. "No. We use this place as a stopover point. Handy to keep it stocked for that reason. Linka?"

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, hair falling over her face as she blinked sleepily. " _Da_?"

"Catch."

"What —" She recoiled as a plastic packet was tossed in her direction. She turned it over, spotting the tell-tale granola bar wrapping. "Oh."

"Some stuff is a little past the expiry date but without the benefit of hindsight, we did not have time to pack anything."

A water bottle was rolled in her direction and Linka grabbed for it, twisting the cap of and downing it within minutes. She sighed, feeling replenished.

The boys soon dragged a few pieces of furniture downstairs and Linka and Gi squeezed themselves into a large armchair; limbs overlapping and sharing a packet of ramen noodles. Tinned tuna and white rice also seemed to be in heavy supply.

"Waitin' for armageddon," Bleak commented in wonder, running his hands over the contents of the shelves along the side wall, stored neatly in plastic boxes for a situation the owners were never able to take advantage of.

"Something like that," Ma-Ti said. He clutched his fork and scooped out the tuna, grimacing at the taste. "Ugh. Oily."

"What happened here?" Linka asked. Her eyes settled on Kwame, silently pleading for answers. "Eleven years and everything has fallen apart," she said softly, motioning around her. "What happened?"

Kwame nodded. He dropped his can into the basket and settled himself into the plastic chair, glancing at the others.

"We knew this day would eventually come. We were warned three years ago that Blight would try to bring you here."

"How did you know? Why am I here? What has —"

"All right," Kwame sighed, defeated. "I guess the easiest way to explain all of this is to start at the beginning and move forward from there."

"All right." Linka folded her arms and settled back, watching him expectantly. "I am waiting."

He gave her a tight smile, rolling his eyes at her bull-dogged persistence. "I've mentioned before that there was never any time travel in the past we have experienced. You never disappeared. Blight never even got her technology off the ground."

Linka nodded.

"You mentioned that your last mission was with Sludge and the oil-syphoning occurring in Alaska?"

" _Da_ ," she said slowly. “Yes.”

"We also experienced this, but you never disappeared afterwards. In our timeline, you found a file."

"I located this file too. SAIP one point something or other…" Linka trailed off, noticing Wheelers eyes widen in shock.

"Have you done anything with it," he asked sharply. "Tinkered with the program?"

"No _,_ " she said, perplexed. "I never got the chance. MAL communicated with me the next day and I managed to track down her location. We… I mean my past colleagues and I, headed out there the same morning to see if I could access MAL's mainframe."

"We never found out where Blight's main compound was," Kwame said. "I think there is a distinct possibility that your Blight left you enough clues online to ensure you would turn up. You walked right into a trap."

The more she thought about it, the more the assumption made sense. "All right. If I never disappeared, never went through the portal, then what have I been doing? I mean _future_ me? Why am I not here with you?"

Kwame nodded. "Okay. I will fill you in on the events _we_ have experienced in the correct sequence." He rubbed his forehead, glancing ahead at the others. "Feel free to add or correct anything."

Ma-Ti gave him the thumbs up, and Kwame continued. "After the Alaska trip, the five of us became a lot busier. We rarely had any down time. We were constantly on the move. It became very…"

"Stressful," Gi finished for him.

"I was going to say crazy," Ma-Ti added. "Seriously through, it was one thing after another. Plunder and Sludge were the least of our problems after Alaska. Once the SAIP program was available for purchase, we found that there was so much damage being inflicted with simply a touch of a button."

"This was my concern when I first looked through the coding," Linka explained. "It was frightening."

"Our Linka was frightened by it too," Kwame said. "SAIP stands for Sentinel Artificial Intelligence Program. The original version you would have seen was quite tame. After about six months, the program allowed purchasers to _physically_ manipulate servers, therefore removing or transferring things that should never be accessible to the public. It allowed access to restricted areas and dangerous items."

"Then it got really bad," Gi said. "That was when we started losing Gaia. The balance was shifting."

"What happened?" Linka gently prodded.

"We had several incidents about a year after Alaska," Kwame said. "Nuclear warheads were transferred into the possession of a very wealthy man from Europe. He then purchased the launch codes… and attempted to sell both to the highest bidder."

"Don't forget the guy who accessed a military armoury and escaped with a truck-load of semi-automatic weapons," Gi said flatly.

"Drugs," Ma-Ti added. "Databases with the personal information of agents in the field. Gold bullion disappeared from the federal reserve."

"Judges. Police. Any secure information was now available through the program. Our work became less about the environment and more about just keeping a lid on things," Gi explained.

"There were more and more people coming out of the woodwork." Ma-Ti sighed, twirling his fork around in his fingers. "The usual suspects like Plunder and Greedly just sort of faded into the background."

"Except Blight," Wheeler muttered. He leant back against the wall, raising his knees to his chest and glowering at Bleak. "She revelled in it. Your lap-dog of a boss had been funding her all along."

"Hey, don't look at me," Bleak snapped. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Oh yeah," Wheeler bit back. "You were just there for the food and witty conversation, I suppose."

"Hey, don't lecture me, ya two-bit —"

"Oh, spare me the sermon, asshole — "

"Anyway," Kwame said pointedly as he levelled a warning look at Wheeler. "It was becoming out of control. By then, the Department of Defence and the CIA had become involved. They were in a panic."

Linka raised her eyebrows as Ma-Ti pointed his fork towards her. "About eighteen months after Alaska, you started freelancing for the government. You knew Blight, you were familiar with MAL's programming and you had been the first one to discover the SAIP file. The CIA were desperate to put an end to the SAIP program and wanted your help."

"So I helped them?" Linka asked.

"Yeah," Wheeler said softly. He refused to meet her eyes, concentrating on running his index finger around the sharp edge of an opened tin of food. Her expression softened as she watched the circular motions.

_You are going to cut yourself, Yankee._

She kept the thought to herself. "Did I… was I successful?"

"In a manner of speaking," Ma-Ti spoke. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "MAL was heavily embedded within the SAIP program. The only way to destroy SAIP was to erase MAL."

"And I eventually did it?"

"After six months, a virus was developed. By then, you were hesitant to upload it. Worried about the consequences. But they went ahead anyway."

"Did it work?"

"Kind of," Gi said.

Linka's eye's narrowed. "What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

"MAL was destroyed. The SAIP program was no longer viable, but we'll get into that later. Besides, another complication developed that was far more concerning."

"What?"

Kwame sighed, running his finger over a crack in the arm rest of his chair. "First and foremost — Blight knew you had a hand in destroying MAL. She was devastated. Inconsolable and incredibly angry. It tipped her over the edge. She blamed you."

"Oh God," she murmured, ready with another question but Kwame held out his hand.

"We got word that she was after you. Looking for revenge. Blight made it her mission to hunt you down. She held you responsible. You had no choice but to go into hiding."

"We refused to continue on without you," Ma-Ti added. "With Wheeler getting shot a few weeks earlier, we really had no other option. Our lives were at risk, now. We felt enough was enough."

Kwame nodded. "So Gaia assembled us for the last time about two years after Alaska. The state of things on Earth had weakened her. We retained our rings but gave up our powers. Gaia was still in the background but Captain Planet took over from there. And we all scattered."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," Linka breathed, scarcely believing what she was hearing. "And I returned to Russia to hide?"

Gi wiped a tear away, settling an arm around Linka's shoulders and glancing somewhat nervously at the others. "Not straight away. You were moved around a lot during the first few years. You were given a new identity. All the paperwork."

"Did I get to see you all anymore?" she asked. Her voice was small and unsteady, unable to imagine a scenario where living without her best friends was an option. "Was I alone?"

"We tried to catch up somewhere — _anywhere_ — after you left, but it was hard to..." Gi shrugged helplessly. There were tears in her eyes and she wiped them away as Linka sat bewildered beside her. "The last time we saw you was three years ago."

"Which was when I returned to Russia," Linka surmised, thinking out loud. "I am guessing the transport systems broke down soon after and I was stuck?"

"No," Gi whispered. She shook her head, pressing her temple against Linka's arm and it was at this point that Kwame took over.

"No, Linka," he repeated softly. "Please understand, we wanted to wait until we were all together. To fill you in. We made a promise."

"Am I in Russia or not?" The frustration was mounting and she found herself wanting to shake him. "For goodness sake, Kwame —"

"Yes, you are in Russia, Linka," Kwame said, clearly uncomfortable and ill at ease.

"Why did —"

"You were interred into the family vault in Novgorod three years ago, alongside your mother and father. Despite your best attempts to keep hidden, Blight still managed to find you."

A heartbeat passed. Silence descended over the group, save for the sound of their breathing. All eyes were on Linka — whose face had turned an ashen grey, her mouth moving soundlessly. Her green eyes scanned the room desperately, panic welling within the pit of her stomach.

Ma-Ti was regarding her with concern while Gi sat sniffling quietly beside her. Even Bleak looked totally nonplussed, twisting the end of his moustache and staring at Linka.

"That was the last time we saw you." Gi shuddered, squeezing the hand laying limply within her lap. Her voice was husky. "We sent your body back to Russia — to your brother, as per the instructions set out in your will."

Linka barely heard. Her gaze settled on Wheeler. He sat with his shoulders hunched, his jaw tense; staring out the window and resolute in his efforts to remain disconnected from this train-wreck of a revelation.

"I am dead?" Linka's face tightened, her lips numb. "I… Blight killed me?"

"I am so, so sorry, my friend," Kwame murmured. He rubbed a hand over his face. "There is more, but perhaps…"

He didn't get to finish. Unable to take the stares any longer, Linka suddenly scrambled to her feet and dashed from the room, ignoring Gi's frightened pleas ringing out behind her.

She fled upstairs, seeking the solace and comfort found in silence.


	21. Chapter 21

Bleak hung around for a while after Blondie's hasty departure, watching on as the remaining Planet-Pests began to self-implode. An argument was brewing between the two eldest Planeteers — not that Firebug seemed in the mood for it.

The two were in the middle of a tense conversation. Bleak was unable to hear the specifics; however Red's body language was defensive. Arms crossed in a display of defiance, eyes narrowed as the Earth guy spoke in urgent tones.

Bleak was the first to admit: he was a little perplexed by Red's demeanour. Familiarity breeds contempt — and the animosity between himself and the Fire Planeteer in the past had been more than mutual. The American kid had a short temper and a smart mouth. He had a well-proven track record of knowing exactly how to push Bleak's buttons.

But eleven years had obviously changed him. The bravado and swagger were gone: replaced by a grim sense of defeat. The motor-mouth Bleak knew from the past had become too darn quiet for his liking.

Bleak watched him turn and stalk away mid-sentence. The Earth dude charged off after him and they disappeared into another part of the house.

_Kid's gone weird._

The other girl remained on the armchair; her cheek pressed against the backrest with her eyes closed. Bleak knew she wasn't asleep — her fingers were slowly clenching and unclenching against the armrest.

He chatted to the Heart Planeteer for a while, gathering some information before breaking away. Intent on exploring.

Taking the winding staircase two steps at a time, he reached the landing and wandered through the upstairs area, scrutinising the family photos lining the walls — a typical nuclear family with three children.

Bleak checked out the cinema room next; sitting in one of eight plush, red leather seats arranged in two rows of four — staring at the blank wall in front. Practicing his 'quick-draw' recliner motion using the lever on the side.

He poked around the main bedroom. Tested the flexibility of the king-sized bed. Grabbed some clothes from the walk-in robe to change into. Pocketed a necklace he found hanging over the corner of a mirror before moving on.

It hadn't taken Bleak long to come across her. Upon entering the nursery, he'd spotted the tell-tale blonde highlights by the window. She was seated on the floor — hunched over, her arms wrapped around her legs with her chin resting on her knees. She looked forlorn, gazing out at the overgrown backyard beyond.

He experienced a sudden pang of pity towards her. As unfamiliar as the feeling was, he pushed it aside. Dropping himself into a rocking chair located adjacent to where she was sitting, he winced as a spring beneath him broke. Unprepared for his stocky frame, the chair continued to creak and groan but Blondie barely flinched.

He grunted. "Tough break, kid."

Linka looked up at him briefly — tear-stained face, her long lashes clumped together. She wiped her eyes and turned her back on him once again, hugging herself a little tighter.

He grunted again, tapping his fingers on the armrest and rocking ever so slightly. "If it's any consolation, Heart-Boy thinks I'm also dead."

"How?" Linka murmured. Her voice was flat and toneless. "Did a psychotic scientist murder you, too?"

"Nah," he replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "I disappeared around seven or eight years ago. Presumed dead. Probably courtesy of Kroi."

"Does that knowledge not bother you?" she asked, raising her red eyes to his. Her voice was husky and she sniffed, before resuming her observation of the rampant gardens below. "Are you not upset?"

"Not really," Bleak replied. He gestured around him. "Been given the opportunity to see what was hidden. Change the things that I otherwise couldn't change. Once we get back —"

"Do you really think we are getting back, Bleak?" she asked. That flat tone again. She sighed, turning around to face him, crossing her legs beneath her and focusing on her hands clutched within her lap. "You do realise that if we had not gone through the portal, _this_ would have become our future? _This_ was what we were heading towards?"

"Yeah. But not anymore. So long as we can get back."

She sniffed, gazing up at the ceiling. "At the point in time we went through — I had only eight more years to live. I was alone and on the run here. I would have spent the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. What sort of life was that?"

"I dunno," Bleak offered. "May not have been as bad as —"

She laughed humourlessly. "Sure."

Bleak shrugged, stretching his arms above his head. He glanced up, spotting Gi standing in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. Waiting.

"Right," Bleak muttered. He gripped the chair and pushed himself to his feet, standing awkwardly for a moment between the two women. "Yeah. I'm gonna go."

Linka nodded, resuming her steady gaze out the window.

* * *

"I'm so sorry," Gi offered, dropping down behind her friend. She wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on Linka's shoulder. "I am so, so sorry. We made a promise to wait... until everyone was here."

Linka stiffened within Gi's embrace. "How did I die? How did she do it?"

"I don't know," Gi replied softly, raising her hand as Linka moved to interrupt. "That's the truth. I honestly don't know. I never found out. I was never told. All I do know is that you were living in London at the time."

"You saw me dead?"

"I saw your body," Gi whispered, blinking back heavy tears. "Hardest day of my life, saying goodbye to you. We only saw you once after the split — before you died. Maybe eighteen months after you were relocated. We… we'd all had dinner together. Little restaurant in Sicily."

"Everybody came?"

"Yeah." Gi smiled at the memory. "We weren't supposed to meet up. It was meant to be strictly no contact, but… we'd agreed on a time and place before they took you away. We took the risk. I never would have imagined it would be the last time."

"Was I... did I seem happy?"

"Yeah," Gi squeezed her tightly. "You were… you were content."

"Oh."

"C'mon." Gi stood, extending her hand out and offering it to Linka. "There's more you need to know."

Linka nodded, allowing Gi to pull her to her feet.

* * *

She resettled into the armchair beside Gi. Nearly everybody had resumed their previous positions — everybody except Wheeler, who had disappeared into the house somewhere and was yet to surface. She gazed longingly at the spot he had vacated.

"Things moved quickly after you died, Linka," Kwame said softly, and she raised her eyes to his. "Some were connected with your death, some were not."

"The wind," Ma-Ti murmured. "It started with the wind."

"What about the wind?" Linka asked, confused.

"We had cyclonic activity begin to build up almost immediately after you passed away, Linka," Gi explained. "Started off small, and over time it gradually got worse. Shorelines eroded and lots of sand travelled inland."

"Again, this is just a hypothesis," Ma-Ti said. "When you died, you were still in possession of your ring. Captain Planet until that point had been harnessing your power." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "With no life force associated with your power, your element became unstable. Uncontrolled."

"But Captain Planet —"

"Cap was grounded after you died. Unable to fly without wind. His last known location was here in the US. Los Angeles. Within a few months we were unable to locate him at all. Cap disappeared."

" _Da_ , Kwame mentioned that." Linka closed her eyes. "All right. What happened to the electricity, then? The technology?"

"That," Kwame said, "was a whole other problem entirely. In short… MAL."

"But I destroyed MAL?" she whispered, glancing at Gi. "Didn't I?"

Gi nodded. "Yes, you did. We didn't realise until much later — MAL had hidden fail-safes embedded within his software. MAL was a self-evolving program with security protocols in case anyone tried to shut him down. No one knew this. I don't even think Blight was aware. When MAL went offline, the virus was released."

"Oh God," Linka breathed. She knew where this was heading.

"It took years for the corrupted files to work their way through cyberspace," Kwame continued. "The phone networks were the first to go. Communication. We started having signal issues, days where we had no workable phone lines."

"Power grids went next, around a year after you died," Gi said softly. "There had been unexplainable outages across the northern hemisphere for a year or two prior, then one day… gone entirely."

"Then it got really bad," Kwame said in a low voice. "Due to the utilities going down, it set off a chain-reaction. Stock markets crashed, manufacturing ceased. Aviation. Corporations."

"Police and medical were no longer able to coordinate their efforts. Financial institutions shut down. Everybody lost their money —" Ma-Ti started.

"Let me guess. Human nature reared its ugly head," Bleak muttered under his breath. He passed a hand over his scalp, looking decidedly nervous. "Complete mayhem?"

"Yes. At that point, everybody lost their minds," Kwame said. "Robbery. Hoarding of supplies. Breaking and entering. Riots. Murders. Gang violence. Bombings. Total destruction of major cities. Mass migrations. We've been living like this for around two years now, dealing with what little we've been left with."

"What about guns? Bullets? Haven't seen a lot of those around? Weapons seem a little simplistic, here," Bleak said with a frown.

"No," Kwame said. "When the government first grasped what was happening, they anticipated trouble. Most remaining ammunition on shelves was melted down. Guns and firearms were either crushed or destroyed. If you were to venture out further into the rural areas, they are more common."

"Fuckin' mess," Bleak grumbled. He jacked his thumb in Linka's direction. "Why the hell is she needed, then?"

Gi sighed, glancing at her friend worriedly. "Did you notice the wind outside had stopped?"

Linka blinked, opening her mouth and closing it again. Recalling the wind buffeting and lashing their faces when they had first arrived on that sandy plain. 

"We noticed too." Gi pursed her lips, squeezing her hand gently. "We don't think that's a coincidence."

"Again, this is just a theory," Ma-Ti said. "Doctor Blight's influence here has been growing. More and more people have joined her. She took over a natural history museum in the centre of town, made it her headquarters. She has a lot of people living there and they're intent on wiping out the rest of us. It's no coincidence that she's here, too. Captain Planet was last seen in Southern California around the time you died. We have… people —"

"Spies," Gi corrected, narrowing her eyes. "Let's not mince words."

"All right. _Spies_ who have reported to us that she hates being here. Loathes it. She's desperate to leave. There is something hidden away in the basement of that building. Something tethered and unmoving."

"Her own personal exhibit," Gi muttered.

"Captain Planet?" Linka surmised. "She captured him?"

"That is our suspicion," Kwame said tiredly.

"That still does not explain why I am —"

"She needs you."

Wheeler had returned. Linka glanced up, staring at his figure framed within the doorway. His blue eyes bored into her and she shrank back slightly.

"What?"

"Blight fucked up. She killed you. The world went to hell in a hand-basket and she didn't anticipate that. Blight needs you and your power back."

"Why?" Linka whispered. "I still don't —"

"When you died," Ma-Ti explained, "Cap was grounded. He was stuck. Couldn't return to the Earth. She realised too late that by killing you, she had taken away the only chance of powering the machine."

"Doctor Blight's insane," Gi spat. "She's completely unhinged. Certifiable. Her people have been travelling back and forth between Los Angeles and Nevada, sometimes with big shipments hidden. Stockpiling. You said you came here through her equipment in Las Vegas?"

" _Da_."

Gi glanced at Kwame. "The time travel equipment must still be intact. Hidden."

Kwame nodded. "She needs us to combine our powers. She needs a concentrated burst of energy to power the time machine. The only way left to do this is to combine our rings. Harness the energy. It's her only chance to leave. That's why she brought you back. That's why she set up the message in one of the places she knew she'd experimented on before."

"But how did I never disappear, here?" Linka asked. She closed her eyes, leaning back in the chair. "It does not make sense that I —"

"Doctor Blight had made all the breakthroughs. She has hard-copies of all of her research. The coordinates, the equations, the test runs. She had the knowledge and the ability, but the technology no longer existed for her to utilise it. Blight needed to bring you back to a future where you had never disappeared. She created an alternate path," Ma-Ti said.

Linka brushed the hair out of her eyes. She resettled herself, watching Ma-Ti carefully. "She has split the timelines?"

"Yes." He held out the fork he'd been playing with for the past hour. Running his finger down the handle, he met her eyes. "Imagine this is our shared timeline. All experiences and events are identical."

"Okay."

Ma-Ti pointed to the base of the metal prongs. "This is the point where Blight left the message. Interfered with the original timeline. Our shared timeline should have continued on as one, however we now have a second branch."

"Dude — there's four pointy-bits on your fork," Gi muttered, rolling her eyes. "Don't confuse the poor girl."

Ma-Ti snorted. "You are confusing her by even mention—"

"It's two prongs for two timelines. Not four."

"Well, I don't have a two-pronged fork to demonstrate with, Gi," he said, his voice betraying both sarcasm and amusement. "Or a branch for that matter, or a gardening trowel or a —"

Kwame smirked from beneath his hand. "A gardening trowel is like a small shovel, Ma-Ti."

"Maybe a tuning fork," Gi added helpfully.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Ma-Ti muttered. He waved good-naturedly and Linka couldn't help but smile. "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

Gi shrugged, winking at Ma-Ti and resting her head on Linka's shoulder. "Just clarifying."

"She knows what I mean. Linka's timeline has branched off in another direction. Which is actually good news for you if we can get you back. You should be able to avoid this future since your Blight is no longer an issue."

"All right." Linka folded her arms, watching Ma-Ti expectantly. "I think I only have one question left."

"You want to know how we knew you were coming."

"Did Blight tell you?"

"No," Ma-Ti said softly. "Gaia told me. Or rather, Gaia _showed_ me."

"How did she know?"

Ma-Ti shifted, glancing at the others.

"Gaia didn't just leave," Gi volunteered. Her face was tight. "She was banished."

"Banished?"

"Gaia was as blind-sided by your death as we were," Ma-Ti said. "She is no longer with us because she was banished from our realm. Her link to the earth was already hanging by a thread. It was the last thing she could do for us. She broke the rules for us."

"What rules?"

"Gaia's job here was always to guide us. To assist us — but not to influence us through other-worldy means. She was not permitted to interfere with free will or directly alter the course of things here on earth. She defied the elders and made an exception after you died." Gi leant back, glancing at Ma-Ti.

"Gaia knew that Blight had lost whatever sanity she had left. She was desperate to know what Blight was planning next. Gaia inhabited Blight's body and was able to read into her future. That information was then transferred to Ma-Ti."

"Not a pleasant experience, might I add," Ma-Ti voiced, shuddering at the memory.

"Gaia told you?"

"No," he explained. "About a week after you died, I had just returned home. Lying in bed. Depressed and miserable. I breathed in and I could smell lavender. It was always a scent I associated with Gaia. When I opened my eyes…"

Ma-Ti paused, rubbing his hand over his face while he composed himself. "She was right here," he whispered. "Floating above me. Her eyes were black," he said. He pursed his lips. It was obviously a difficult memory to dredge up but Linka sat, enthralled. "Her hands shot out, pressing over my forehead. I remember shouting out. That's when the pictures started. Images, I guess."

He trailed off. Gi gave him an encouraging smile and he breathed out shakily before continuing. "She foresaw all of this through reading Blight's future. She was able to warn me. She showed me the technology failing, the erosion. The desperate, frightened people. She showed me the underground settlements."

Ma-Ti smiled at Linka, wiping a tear away. "And then I get a flash of light. The image of you — just you — crash landing into the sand. Bag over your head. Frightened and feeling alone." He swallowed nervously. "When I had my power, I can't explain it — but your presence was always accompanied by a light blue aura. A glow. When Gaia transferred the images to me, your presence was very much there. It was like Gaia knew you would be coming back to us. Almost a prophecy."

"That is a large gamble to make. It could have just been a dream for all you knew," she said gently.

Kwame shrugged. "Everything Ma-Ti described to us came true. In terms of the decline in technology, we were able to somewhat prepare for what was to come. We had no reason to doubt your arrival… we simply did not have a timeframe. We just hoped to find you before Blight could."

"All right," she murmured. She rubbed her eyes tiredly; still processing everything she had been told. "I think I have everything I need to know."

"It's a lot to take in," Gi added, dropping her arm around Linka's shoulders.

Linka nodded, looking rather bewildered by the revelations. "Did Gaia say anything?"

"Yes." Ma-Ti nodded. "She told me that under no circumstances were you to remain here. That it was imperative that you return. Something about the timelines becoming unstable."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Linka leaned into Gi, before settling her gaze on Wheeler. He was still standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame and inspecting the laces on his boots.

"All right," Kwame said gently. He pushed himself to his feet, placing his hand on Linka's head as he passed. "Let us eat."

"Great idea," Bleak muttered, also rising and following Kwame. "I swear, I'm gonna beat the livin' daylights outta my boss if I get home in one piece."

Wheeler grunted in response as Bleak pushed past, not even bothering to throw out a smart response.

"Yankee?" Linka voiced, almost nervously, aware that he had been missing in action for most of the conversation. "Are you all right?"

He gave a half shrug; shuffling awkwardly on the spot before turning and rapidly striding away, leaving the girls alone.

"What happened?" Linka was suddenly tearful, at a loss to explain his dismissive behaviour. "He hates me, Gi?"

"He doesn't hate you, Lin," Gi said firmly. She tightened her grip around Linka's shoulders as Wheeler disappeared upstairs. "I guess everyone deals with grief differently."


	22. Chapter 22

Another day and night spent in San Fernando. The mood was sombre within the group. Reflective. Now that everything was out in the open, the newfound knowledge had done little to improve Linka's frame of mind.

She found herself dividing her time between Ma-Ti and — rather shockingly — Argos Bleak. At least Linka knew where she stood with Bleak. He didn't mince words. Spoke the truth, even if it came across as belligerent or downright rude.

And Ma-Ti hadn't changed too much. He seemed to have taken the recent events in his stride, at least from a personality point of view. Friendly, welcoming and always ready to listen or offer a shoulder to lean on. More reflective and a little quieter, certainly. But at heart, the same ray of sunshine he had always been.

It was a pity the same couldn't be said about the others.

Kwame was calling the shots. From Linka's perspective, he had been from the start. There was a hardness about him. He rarely smiled — the light and joy had left his face long ago. He'd aged; eleven years of hard burden and responsibility causing him to look much older than his years.

It was an issue of trust. She continued to be wary of him, eyeing him with a level of suspicion. The damage had been done and she was unsure if her relationship with this version of Kwame could be salvaged.

Then there was Gi. Her neediness was becoming a major impediment. She had been overtly touchy-feely-cuddly since their reunion underground and it was frustrating Linka no end.

It had been nice at first. Comforting — but her friend was beginning to intrude upon Linka's desire for personal space. Gi was starting to grate on her already fraught nerves, leaving Linka feeling overwhelmed by her obsessive behaviour.

Linka often found herself gently extracting her limbs from Gi's vice-like grip or placing herself next to Ma-Ti or Kwame in an effort to avoid the next claustrophobic embrace — not that Gi didn't try to wedge herself in between them anyway.

And Wheeler? The one person she desperately craved contact with seemed to want nothing to do with her. She'd given up trying to reach out to him. The walls were well and truly up, and he was doing all he could to avoid being around her.

Her mind tried to rationalise his behaviour. Offer possible reasons for his refusal to interact with her: reasons that she considered but pushed aside as utterly ridiculous.

_Did we have a falling out?_

The thought popped into her head unbidden — that perhaps when he had met someone else, their relationship was unable to be salvaged afterwards as a result.

Regardless of her perceived ambivalence toward him during their Planeteer days, she had always been attracted to him. Harboured strong feelings for him — feelings she buried deep down. She both adored him and was exasperated by him in equal measure, which only fuelled the fire inside.

_Never a dull moment with the Yankee._

Overthinking things was driving her to distraction so she spent the remainder of the afternoon hanging out with Bleak instead, watching him poke around the heavily stocked shelves in the basement. Listening to him rattle on about his pride and joy: A 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. All leather interior. Upgraded stereo. Metallic paint. Remodelled, super-charged engine. Sports exhaust and alloy rims.

Linka had no idea what any of that meant — but she was simply content to be in the company of someone whose personality hadn't drastically morphed into something she no longer recognised.

At his core, Bleak was still the same. Rough around the edges. Brash. Prone to angry outbursts and sarcastic comments. Still blessedly Argos Bleak — desperately unlikable but for the moment, they were united in their common goal of getting home.

The rambling car commentary had stopped and Linka glanced up at Bleak from her position on the floor. He was holding a a pair of pliers and watching her expectantly.

"What?" she asked, realising that he had asked her a question. "Did you say something?"

"You own a car?"

" _Nyet_ ," she mumbled, a little taken aback by the question. "I was not old enough to drive when I became a Planeteer."

"But Old Mother Hubbard had you all flying a fuckin' plane." He chuckled, resuming his search of the shelves, clearly entertained by her comment. "Steep learning curve."

Linka shrugged. He had a point. " _Da_. I think Gi was the only one who had a driving licence before we received our rings. Wheeler was not to happy about that."

He grunted. "Your guy's gone weird."

"He was never _my guy_ ," she replied in an annoyed voice, glaring at him. "And yes, he is… different."

"Different?" Bleak snorted, tossing an empty oil drum to the ground. It clattered loudly, coming to rest beside Linka's foot. "Cranky. Brooding. Stroppy. Like I said — weird."

She nodded, too tired to argue with him. A spider crawled out from the oil can and Linka watched it scurry across the floorboards, narrowly avoiding a collision with an empty box of matches Bleak had tossed aside earlier.

"It is not just him," she said softly. "They have all changed,"

"Did you find out how she did it?

"What?"

"Jesus, girl. Am I speakin' another language here?" He rolled his eyes. "How did Batty Babs take you down?"

"Gi said she never found out. They were not told."

"Horse-shit," he muttered under his breath. Bleak paused, his brow creased as he stared at Linka. He jabbed the pliers in her direction. "If they're telling the truth — if you went into witness protection, or whatever the fuck it was — why did they abandon you to your eventual death? No one even knows how it happened. You must have died alone."

She stared back at him. The question had crossed her mind. "Perhaps I refused to put anyone else in danger. Insisted on going on my own."

"Wouldn't do that to my dog," he shrugged, resuming his ministrations. "I dunno. For a bunch of free-lovin' Brady Bunch hippies like yourselves, just seems weird that they'd desert you like that — unless they're still holdin' back."

"You think they are still not telling us everything?"

Bleak shrugged. "Wouldn't put it past 'em. Haven't exactly been that forthcoming."

" _Ya znayu,_ " she murmured, shaking her head.

_I know._

"That German?" he replied smartly, and Linka was reminded of their earlier conversation in the scavenger camp. He threw a tennis ball towards her and she tilted her head, catching it swiftly with one hand.

" _Ja_ ," she said, jumping to her feet and dusting off her trousers. She tossed it back, nailing Bleak square in the back of the head. He grunted, unprepared for the impact.

Linka's lips curved into a smile as she headed for the door. " _Bis später._ "

* * *

Dusk had bathed the home in a fiery-orange glow. With the wind no longer an issue, the dust and sand had settled and sunlight was beginning to inch its way back after a long absence. She had come across Ma-Ti standing in the kitchen by the window, enjoying the rays. He gave her a genuine smile and Linka soon revelled in the distraction provided by him.

The stress and anxiety was momentarily forgotten as he chatted to her about life in his tribe. He had married a girl he had known since childhood, Luisa, however they were yet to be blessed with children. Linka shook her head slightly, dazed as she stared at this man as he spoke animatedly, delighted with her company. Tall and thin now, with a deep, resonant voice. The smile was the same, though. Gentle and capable of lighting up a room.

_Bozhe moy. He would be around thirty now._

In all honesty, she still equated Ma-Ti with the shy, nervous twelve year old from her first day on the job.

Linka learnt that Ma-Ti's people had required very little adjustment to the current living conditions, courtesy of their continued practice of the 'old ways'. He had trained with the local shaman and was well-versed in natural medicines and treating outbreaks of sickness and disease.

He opened the pantry door, poking around the sparse shelves and searching for something to satisfy his sweet tooth. It didn't take long for him to find a potential match. He pulled a glass jar out containing peeled, orange objects suspended in liquid. Ma-Ti wrinkled his nose and held it out to Linka for inspection.

"Apricots?"

She shook her head. " _Nyet_. Peaches, perhaps?"

Perching herself on the kitchen bench, she grinned at Ma-Ti as he struggled to open the lid on a glass jar. The preserved peaches within looked rather appetising. Ma-Ti's body was contorted; his face a mask of concentration and Linka giggled, watching him attempt to remove the lid.

"It's not funny," he grinned, still straining with the effort. "Do you know how long it has been since I had fruit?"

"I had the most delicious pineapple in Fiji a few weeks ago. Do you wish me to describe it to you?" she teased.

"No," he scoffed, nodding towards the trapped fruit. "Just for that, you are not getting any."

"Sharing is caring, Ma-Ti," she said with a smile.

"Teasing's not pleasing," he replied, poking his tongue out. "And this lid is definitely not coming off."

"Smash it?" Linka suggested.

Ma-Ti wrinkled his nose. "Ah, no. I prefer my peaches without shards of glass."

She shrugged, peering out the window. "It is probably rotten anyway, Ma-Ti."

"I was really in the mood for those." He settled himself against a cupboard, leaning back and watching her as she gazed out the window.

Linka's legs dangled idly over the counter, her eyes following a lone figure wandering around outside near the garden shed. Distracted by the distinctive flash of red hair visible through the grass, she looked up and Ma-Ti gave her a wry smile.

"This must be very strange for you."

"I am still waiting to wake up."

He nodded. "How are you coping?"

"I still cannot believe… " She sighed, glancing out the window again but Wheeler had disappeared from her view. She bowed her head. "Knowing what I know, I cannot help but think this is all my fault."

"No," Ma-Ti said firmly. He placed the jar on the counter. "Absolutely not. You had nothing to do with the final decision. You begged the CIA for more time. They didn't listen. You realised too late that they had their own agenda."

She nodded. "They are all so different, now."

"The others?"

" _Da,_ " she said. "Some more than others."

"I am worried about Gi," Ma-Ti admitted. "Kwame and I have been concerned for a while. She was inconsolable after you died."

"Concerned about what in particular?" Linka asked. "I have noticed that she is a little… overwhelming."

"You don't know the half of it," he said softly. He sighed, picking up the glass jar again and rolling it within his hands. "We've noticed some self-destructive behaviour. Reckless. Out of character stuff. Going on for some time now."

"Like what?"

"She is desperate for affection. Craves attention from the wrong people. Kwame has mentioned that she has acquired a reputation…" Ma-Ti trailed off, hesitant to elaborate but Linka had picked up all she needed to know from what Ma-Ti wasn't saying.

"I have noticed some strange behaviour too," she admitted. "A man climbed into bed with us the night you arrived."

Ma-Ti nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "He wouldn't be the first. "

"Really? _Bozhe moy,_ " she breathed. "So long as she is happy, I guess."

He shook his head. "She's not."

She frowned, suddenly feeling the need to defend her friend. "There is nothing wrong with being comfortable with —"

"Drinking until she passes out and dragging random men back to her room most nights of the week is definitely not within the realms of being _comfortable_ , Linka. Especially for Gi."

Linka was taken aback. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Ma-Ti. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his hand through his hair nervously. "It is not my place to say anything or judge, but —"

"Is she using protection?" she asked, horrified.

"No protection — another side effect since manufacturing shut down. Four pregnancy scares and a few drunken brawls. You know Gi better than anyone. This isn't her. She's not coping."

Linka could scarcely believe him. "Oh my God. How long has this been —"

He raised his eyebrows, and she abruptly shut her mouth.

_Since I died._

"Kwame was worried, tried to intervene," he explained. "Tried to help her. She was originally living at Belmont, but started hanging around with the wrong people. He moved her to another community to get her away. A new start, but…"

"Oh my God," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. She'd had no idea of how bad things had gotten. "What a mess."

"Don't tell her I told you. She would be mortified." He sighed, following Linka's gaze out the window. Wheeler has surfaced again and was perched on the edge of a raised garden bed, tinkering with some machinery. The sun had just set but he was still visible in the moonlight. Ma-Ti jacked his thumb in Wheeler's direction. "And then there's that one."

Her eyes followed Wheeler's movements longingly. "Have you seen him much?"

"No." Ma-Ti shook his head. "Only twice in nine years."

"He refuses to speak to me," Linka whispered, feeling a lump rising in her throat. She sighed with frustration. "He cannot bear to be in the same room as me. I do not know what I have done."

"You haven't done anything," Ma-Ti assured her. He looked at Linka with sympathetic eyes. "Honestly."

"Did we not part on good terms?"

Ma-Ti shifted uncomfortably. "It's complicated."

"Have you met his wife?" Linka didn't bother being coy. "What is her name?"

"Rachel."

"How many children does he have?"

"I'm sure he will eventually —"

Ma-Ti paused, distracted now and staring out the window. Linka followed his gaze, watching Wheeler — who was now on his feet and standing alert amongst the long grass. Watchful. They saw him approach the hedge for a moment, peering through the foliage before turning and bolting towards the house, tossing the machinery aside.

_Something is wrong._

Linka's breath caught as Ma-Ti grabbed her hand and pulled her down from the bench top. He led her out of the kitchen and towards the bunker, nearly bumping into Kwame along the way. Gi and Bleak were a few feet behind him.

Kwame raised his finger to his lips and they descended together, filing into the bunker one by one.

Bleak turned to Kwame. "What's going —"

"About a dozen people roaming the street. Headed in our direction. Wheeler could hear them."

"Weapons?"

"Not sure."

Linka looked around wildly. "Wait, where is Wheel —"

"Locking up," Gi whispered back. "Securing the house."

"Shhh. Quiet." Kwame's voice floated over from the other side of the bunker. Most of the wicks were quickly extinguished as they stood, nervous and on edge around the room.

She heard the sounds of shuffling and doors closing nearby. Linka dropped into the armchair in the far corner, pulling her feet underneath her body. She ran her thumb over her ring nervously, wetting her lips. A quiet rap soon sounded and metal hinges groaned as the heavy door swung open.

"It's me," a familiar voice said. Wheeler slipped inside, closing the door behind him and locking the mechanism into place. "They're three houses down."

"What are they doing?" Kwame asked

"Dunno," Wheeler said, sounding annoyed. He took a seat on the floor opposite Linka. "Didn't stop to ask 'em, Kwame."

"You know what I —"

"They're drunk, swearing like sailors and makin' a lot of noise. Smashin' shit up."

Linka heard Kwame sigh. "All right. We will hold up here for the night and head back tomorrow. The bunker is secure. If they are still there in the morning, we have Linka and her ring."

"Back to Belmont?" Ma-Ti asked.

"No," Kwame said. "I will need to radio through first. Make sure we are not walking into a trap."

"My settlement?" Gi suggested. "It's on the way."

"That was my first thought," Kwame said. "I really think we need to come up with a plan once we're back home. Come up with a plan of attack." He looked upon his weary charges with sympathetic eyes. "For now, I think we need to try to get some sleep."

"Easy for you to say," Bleak muttered. He rolled over regardless, wrapping a blanket around himself.

The one remaining wick flickered away prettily. Linka burrowed her cheek against the course fabric, settling into a somewhat comfortable position. Gi soon dropped down beside her, draping a thick over over their legs.

Drawing the material up to her chest, she grimaced as Gi dropped her head onto Linka's shoulder and clung to her arm, fingers digging almost painfully into Linka's flesh.

Linka sighed with frustration, resigning herself to another night of claustrophobic cuddling. She remained alert, her eyes glued to the door; startled by every creak and groan that issued from somewhere within the house.

She stared at the tiny flame until her eyelids grew heavy, feeling her cheeks burning with the awareness that Wheeler's steely gaze was focused solely on her.


	23. Chapter 23

"Home sweet home," Gi breathed, tugging Linka along behind her. "Welcome to Metropolis."

"Metropolis?" Linka wondered aloud, wrinkling her nose. She stepped carefully over the underground tracks, passing her hand over the pipes running along the wall. "Is that not a Batman term?"

"Batman?" Bleak snorted. "Are you kiddin', girl?

"Superman," Wheeler's voice corrected her from somewhere behind them. Linka glanced back in surprise, peering at him as they traversed the dark railway tracks. It was one of the few times Wheeler had actually responded to something she'd said.

She took it as a small win.

"All right. Why would anyone name —"

"Los Angeles Metro. The nickname kinda stuck."

"Pansy-assed nickname," Bleak muttered, and Gi shot him a filthy look.

"We're in a much larger system of tracks than Belmont. Belmont is smaller and more isolated. It was the first to be populated successfully. When more and more people started arriving, we branched out — started colonising other underground systems," Kwame explained.

"Each colony is interconnected to the others," Gi said, side-stepping a track switch. "There are fifteen communities living down here. Kind of like small suburbs, I guess: each taking their own line of the metro system."

"Are they as impressive as the Belmont Tunnel?" Linka asked.

"They're nowhere near as sophisticated down here as Belmont. Kwame sent me here to try and get them up to scratch," Gi proclaimed proudly. "We're getting there."

Linka shot a knowing glance towards Ma-Ti, aware of the truth. He winced, before looking away.

"Wouldn't wanna' be claustrophobic livin' down here in these places," Bleak looked down in surprise as his feet crunched over broken glass. He grunted, scuffing the soles of his shoes over the gravel to make sure no shards were embedded with them. "Shitty way to spend your days."

"I remember Wheeler making us sit through one of the Ghostbusters movies," Ma-Ti said idly, gesturing around him. "This place kind of reminds me of a scene from that."

Gi chuckled. "Yeah, true. No ghost trains coming through here. Real trains, though," she added, turning to Linka and pointing in front of her. "When the power went offline, the subway system crashed. The trains literally ground to a stop. We use the carriages as sleeping quarters now."

Linka squinted in the grungy light, spotting the shadow of a bulky carriage blocking the track up ahead. The rest of them approached slowly as Gi jogged ahead, waving her hand and calling out softly.

The others halted as Gi disappeared, greeting someone inside. Voices reverberated within and it was evident that a discussion was going on within.

A good five minutes passed. Linka shifted restlessly, stepping up onto a single track and balancing on the narrow metal. She stilled, watching Wheeler as he stepped back, leaning casually against the pipes and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. She smiled gently at him, attempting to coax him into a response but like always, he looked away.

A noise startled them and they all turned, looking expectantly at Gi as she hurried back to them. She motioned with her hand, urging them towards her.

"All right," she said, leading them onwards through the tunnel. They squeezed past the drivers carriage, stepping carefully through the narrow spaces. Linka glanced through the open door and spotted a motley crew of men and women lounging around on the inside. An older woman with glasses studied them closely as they passed.

"Are we good?" Kwame asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "We can stay for a few days. They don't want us staying any longer. Already over capacity and they know Blight's after us."

"Have they heard from —"

Gi nodded. "Tyreece is here, along with some of the others. Belmont's a mess, but it's clear now. Most fought their way free and came here, but some weren't so lucky."

Kwame groaned. "How many dead?"

"Don't know for sure, but apparently some were taken back to Blight."

Linka's heart thudded painfully. "Grace?"

Gi shrugged, biting her lip. "No idea."

"I hope she is alright."

Squeezing herself between the wall and metal sides of the train, Linka craned her neck, peering through the windows. She was surprised to see moving shapes inside the compartments — at least a dozen people illuminated within the carriage.

Conversation seemed to cease when the rag-tag group of travellers passed them. Darkened faces stared down at her and Linka quickly switched her gaze back to the front.

They slipped through to the other side of the track; finding numerous crevices and hollowed-out sections within the walls. Each hole was filled with an odd assortment of glass jars containing hand-made wicks suspended in liquid, each with a small flame burning.

They eventually approached what looked like a station, complete with platforms either side. It was an older-style design, with glossy-tiled walls in drab colours running to the edges. She saw a station-master room at the far end of both platforms, as well as stairs leading upwards.

Gi was correct. This was nothing like Belmont. It was sparse, filthy and purely functional, lacking the ingenuity and warmth of Kwame's settlement.

"This is where you live?" Linka breathed, staring at Gi.

She nodded. "Now you know why I keep going back to visit Belmont. Helps to know the boss," she muttered.

"Need a couple of decent roach motels," Bleak complained, stepping back as a cockroach the size of a mouse skittered past. "God-damn disgusting."

"Obviously smelled you a mile off," Wheeler muttered.

"Funny little fucker, aren't ya?" Bleak snapped, glaring at him.

Wheeler ignored him. "I need to get on the radio. Need to call home."

Gi nodded. "Sure. There's a radio upstairs," she said, giving a wave to a couple of middle-aged women lounging in plastic chairs.

Kwame hoisted himself up onto the platform and quickly made a beeline for the station-master box. Linka tilted her head to the side, spotting Tyreece's familiar frame through the window.

Wheeler soon followed suit, hauling himself upwards in one swift movement. He stood and stared, looking a little unimpressed at the unbecoming accommodations they had found themselves in.

Ma-Ti wandered off down the other end of the track as Gi grabbed a hand each belonging to some nearby men, chatting in low tones with them. She broke away, tapping Wheeler on the shoulder and beckoning for him to follow her. Gi slung an arm around his waist and squeezed him affectionately as they disappeared from view, causing another hot flare of jealousy to course through Linka's veins.

Linka and Bleak remained on the tracks. They had now watched everyone disappear in different directions. She glanced at Bleak and he gave a small sound of annoyance.

"Great," he muttered, throwing his hands in the air. "Terrific."

Linka shrugged, placing her hands flat against the platform and attempting to pull herself up. The platform came up to the centre of her chest and no matter how many times she tried, she just didn't have the strength to lift her body weight.

" _Chert voz'mi_ ," she hissed through her teeth.

"Come here," Bleak said with a resigned tone. He bent down, gripping her foot so she could get her other leg up and over. She quickly scrambled to her feet, relieved for the help.

" _Spasiba_ ," she said, offering her own hand but Bleak shook his head.

"Yeah, right." He brushed her off and snorted with derision. "I sincerely doubt you can lift anything larger than your ring finger, Blondie," he remarked.

She scoffed, ready to fire back but he gave her a dismissive wave, before turning to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Gonna go find a hole to crawl into," he muttered as he walked away.

"Plenty of places for that," Linka called after him, assuming he was planning on resting somewhere. Attempting to be helpful. He was coming in rather useful, after all. "The carriages back there were being used to sleep —"

He looked back and smirked. "Not the kinda hole I'm lookin' for, sweetheart."

Linka's eyes narrowed. She ran her hand through her messy hair in confusion until the hidden meaning of his words sunk in.

"That is disgusting, Bleak!" she choked, but he'd already disappeared. "Ugh. _Polzat_ '."

Linka turned, finding herself alone amongst strangers. There were maybe a dozen men and women stretched out on the platform around her, talking idly in small groups. A few stared at her, openly inquisitive but not enough to make conversation or offer a kind welcome.

She wrapped her arms around herself, glancing up at the stairs Gi and Wheeler had ascended a few minutes earlier. Without hesitation, she moved forwards and began the climb to the top.

* * *

She hung to the side, leaning against the corner of the ticket window and keeping out of sight, feeling guilty for eavesdropping but unabashedly curious. Wheeler was inside, sitting within a tattered leather chair. Legs raised and feet perched on the edge of the desk — a position that was so completely and utterly Wheeler. She'd seen it a million times.

The image of his feet propped up on the geo-cruiser dashboard sprung to mind. Tucked against the back of her own chair, tapping gently to whatever music selection he was listening to. On Hope Island: sneakers up on the coffee table while slumped on the couch, watching a movie. Occasionally during inappropriate times such as official engagements, requiring a stern reminder to remove his feet from whatever surface he was utilising. Usually accompanied by a light swat across the head from herself, but always taken in good humor.

Wheeler had his back to the window as Linka peeked her head around again, listening to him. His whole persona had changed. She tilted her head against the faded paint and closed her eyes, basking in his confident, warm tones directed towards the recipient of the call.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he chatted animatedly. A little girl's voice was present, lilting and sweet.

_When are you coming home, Daddy?_

_I climbed a tree today._

_Yes, I'm being good._

_We made cookies in the fire-pit._

_Yes, I did my reading and writing_. A little attitude and an exasperated sigh followed.

Linka's cheeks flushed. She chewed on her thumb, sneaking a look inside again. Wheeler had spun slightly in his chair. He was grinning; laughing at something his daughter was saying. Joyful and warm and content — at complete odds with the persona he was demonstrating towards herself.

Someone else now. A woman's voice. An English accent, warm and quietly-spoken.

The bitterness was staggering. She darted away, hovering beneath the arch at the top of the stairs instead.

She didn't want to hear any more, content to block out the evidence of the other woman. Not ready to hear any proclamations of love or intimacy for someone she had never met, but hated with the fire of a thousand suns.

Because it had always been herself on the receiving end of his compliments and affection.

_It should have been me_.

Linka felt an irrational flare of anger at the injustice of it all. Bitterness coursed through her, hot and pulsing. She had spent a substantial amount of her life protecting the earth. She had deserved to have a happy ending; rather than rotting away in a cold, dark vault.

_I did not deserve this. This was not fair._

She blocked out the conversation coming from within, choosing to focus on something else, anything that would take her mind of _him_. Random thoughts popped into her head. She shivered, suddenly wondering whether she had been buried or cremated.

_What colour was my casket?_

_Who came to my funeral?_

_How did Mishka cope?_

_Does he bring me flowers?_

_Does he visit me often?_

She dashed away tears as the image of Mishka popped up, introducing his possible wife and children to Aunty Linka's final resting place. The children paying their respects towards Babushka and Dedushka — a couple who were also denied a happy life, courtesy of cancer and a mining accident.

Linka's own babushka had passed away in her fifth year of being a Planeteer. A heart attack in her sleep. She frowned, wondering again about the specifics of her own demise.

_Did it hurt when I died? Was I in pain?_

Her thought patterns had become alarmingly frenzied. So much so that she hadn't noticed that Wheeler had exited the booth, having finished with his conversation. He froze, not expecting to run into her.

"Hi," she said nervously, glancing up into his startled blue eyes.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, not quite knowing what to say; in her experience, a rarity for him. He finally seemed to recover.

He didn't look happy to see her. "Were you listenin' to that?"

"I overheard some of it," she said, embarrassed now. "Was that your _malyshka_? Your little girl?

He nodded stiffly, folding his arms across his chest.

_The walls are going back up again._

She sighed with frustration. "You are married?" she asked, motioning towards the wedding ring on his finger.

"Yeah."

"Her name is Rachel?"

He looked up in surprise. "Yeah," he said cautiously.

"How many children do you have?" she asked softly. "What is your daughter's —"

"I can't do this," Wheeler interrupted, looking pale and shaken. He shook his head vehemently. "I'm not havin' this conversation with you."

With that, he turned and stalked away, leaving her alone again. She crumpled against the wall, dropping her face into her hands and sobbing quietly.

* * *

Linka eventually recovered herself, aware that she was in the way of people trying to get past. She quickly stood and wiped her face before descending.

She walked along the platform glumly, doing her best to avoid eye contact with anyone. Her peripheral vision allowed her a glimpse of Kwame in the far corner, once again speaking in harsh tones to Wheeler who was red-faced and actually engaging with him this time — yelling back, arms flailing.

With a glance in Linka's direction, Kwame grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him towards the edge of the platform, out of earshot. They jumped down onto the tracks and disappeared, their voices bouncing their way down the tunnel.

Her heart was racing, anxiety spiralling to dangerous levels. She simply didn't know what was going on with Wheeler and the lack of knowledge was slowly destroying her.

She wiped her eyes again, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting on the edge of the platform. She missed Wheeler, desperately and unequivocally. Grieved him. Longed for him with a passion she'd never thought she possessed.

But the truth was like a slap in the face. The grim realisation was present, chipping away at her slowly.

Wheeler didn't seem to want to be there.

* * *

Carriage T4455 was quiet, save for the shuffling of bed sheets and quiet murmurs. Gi usually shared her carriage with fifteen others, but that number had swelled out to twenty-five due to the refugees who had arrived from Belmont.

Linka sat on the edge of the doorway. The manual release lever was permanently employed so the double-doors could be opened and shut when suited. Linka had heaved one partly open and had taken a seat on the edge of the metal tread. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders, staring miserably at the pitch-black nothingness.

The wicks had all been extinguished now but Linka had made no move to come back inside. She felt a weight drop down beside her and she sighed, knowing it was Gi without looking.

Gi was clutching a makeshift candle in one hand and a heavy folder in the other. Paper and documents peeked out of the corners and it was filled to the brim.

"Thought you could use some cheering up," Gi said quietly, placing the wick down beside her. "Havin' a bit of a rough time, aren't you."

Linka nodded. She motioned towards the object clutched carefully within Gi's hands. "What is this?"

"Only thing I kept," Gi remarked. She balanced the folder over their legs and opened it, before bringing the candle close. "My photo album."

Linka sat up straighter, wiping her eyes. Her interest was piqued. "Oh," she said, peering at it with mounting fascination.

Gi turned the pages slowly, and Linka smiled, her heart lifting at the images that greeted her. All familiar situations and locations. Identical poses.

She suppressed a giggle, catching a close-up of herself in a white sundress with her mouth open, raising her hand to Gi's camera.

Kwame in his garden. Tending to his tomato plants with a small trowel clutched within his hand.

Ma-Ti meditating on the sand with one eye closed, the other open and regarding the photographer with mild annoyance.

Gi's parents, all dressed up and staring at the camera. Serious expressions.

Wheeler passed out on the couch. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn lay across his chest.

The images continued slipping by and the girls discussed them quietly, reminiscing fondly. Linka noticed that the further along Gi flicked, the less Hope Island featured in the images.

She placed her hand over Gi's as a photo appeared that she didn't recognise. She leaned forward, scrutinising it carefully. It was herself, perched on the wing of the Geo-Cruiser seemingly in the middle of nowhere and smiling for the camera. Ankles crossed over, hair curled and hanging prettily over her shoulder. She tapped the photo, glancing at Gi.

"I do not remember this one," she said. "This was after Alaska?"

"Yeah."

Linka smiled, intrigued at the thought of getting a glimpse of the life she herself hadn't lived, hoping to glean some tangible insights into how her life would have progressed had she not tumbled through the portal.

Linka gripped the heavy folder and placed it within her own lap. The pages turned and she sat fascinated, her problems with Wheeler forgotten for the moment.

Hope Island had obviously become a distant memory. All of the images were on the road now. Hotel rooms, logging sites, chemical plants, board rooms.

A selfie of herself and Gi, mugging for the camera in a restaurant.

Kwame aiming his ring towards the ground, in the midst of talking to Ma-Ti.

There was even a shot of Captain Planet, flexing his biceps with a cheesy grin.

A shot of the five of them in an auditorium, taken down the line of seats. Linka suppressed a smile, noting nearly everyone's eyes directed towards the keynote speaker. She passed her finger over Wheeler's image. He looked bored out of his mind — head lolling against the back of the chair and unsurprisingly — feet up on the seat in front.

Finally, the last photo. She studied it carefully.

"They'd just arrived to pick you up," Gi said softly. "Taking you away. Had to talk you into getting a photo, you were a nervous wreck. I'd just dyed your hair the night before. You were still pretty shaken up about everything."

Linka grabbed the light and held it closer. It seemed as though the five had sort of tumbled onto the couch in a rush. She moved the candle, spotting a small suitcase propped against the wall to the right of the image.

Most of the others were facing the camera but her future self wasn't. She was seated across Wheeler's lap with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Her legs were draped across Kwame's thighs and Ma-Ti was holding one of her hands. Gi was pressed up against her back.

Linka inspected the older version of herself, shocked at the dishevelled appearance on display. In the image, her hair was dark brown, contrasting with her pale, drawn face. There were darkened patches underneath the delicate skin of her eyelids. She looked absolutely exhausted. Her hands were lying limply within her lap. Her face was turned inwards; nose and forehead pressed against Wheeler's cheek. Her eyes were closed.

It was the calm before the storm. The reference point.

Six years later she would be dead.

"Thank you, Gi," she murmured, relieved to finally have some insight into the way things had turned out. Some proof of the future.

"Welcome," she replied, running her fingers gently through Linka's hair. "C'mon. Let's get to bed."

Linka nodded, allowing Gi to pull her to her feet and towards the back of the carriage; towards the promise of sleep that would not be forthcoming that night.


	24. Chapter 24

In the end, they remained at the Metro community for over a week. Belmont was a mess, and Tyreece had eventually returned with a small group of helpers, intent on making repairs and removing bodies. They had barely made it back at all; having been surrounded and searched along the way by eight men who had jumped them just outside the substation.

Sent by Blight, Tyreece and the others had only just managed to fight their way free — however the aim was clear. They were searching for Linka. The entrances were still under surveillance and Tyreece had radioed through to warn Kwame. It was recommended that they stay away for now, at least until they could secure things properly.

The news had hit Linka hard. She hated it here. Loathed it. It was as if a persistent grey cloud was following her. Depression had never even entered into her vocabulary but she was simply surviving each day. Ambivalent and uninterested in the conversation going on around her. Ma-Ti seemed to be the only one who understood, doing his best to spend time with her.

The Metro 'suburb' lacked the comforts and warmth of Belmont. It was damp and oppressive. There was no fresh food here; only bland, unappetising staples such as rice, wheat and beans. They weren't anywhere near as organised as Belmont. Run with an almost military precision, Belmont was a stark contrast to this place, where the motto "every man for themselves" took on a special meaning.

The general age of the population seemed a little older too, and definitely not as welcoming. Linka couldn't help notice that things were much more sedate here. No bustling hub — just a languid apathy amongst the residents. Wasting away their days. Privacy was non-existent.

There were no weapons here and Linka quickly realised that Belmont housed the fighters, those who still believed they could restore the balance and were willing to fight for it.

This section of the Metro contained the souls who had simply given up. Resigned to their fate.

Gi only seemed to be around when it was convenient for her — when she needed her fix of cloying, obsessive physical contact. Otherwise, like at Belmont, she was missing in action for large chunks of the day.

Kwame was busily making plans. Manning the radio and checking on things back home. He had finally made contact with Trissa, which had improved his mood somewhat. He was still tense, however. Disconnected from things.

She rarely saw Wheeler at all, except at meal times and occasionally when they crossed paths. This usually involved him turning and heading in the opposite direction as if his life depended on it.

Gi had mentioned earlier that the station was located beneath a terminus building which was accessible from below. Ma-Ti and Bleak went searching for it, dragging Linka along with them in an effort to cheer her up. All three were desperate to escape the monotony and boredom of life underground.

They followed the instructions of an elderly bearded man in a singlet and scuffed shorts, holding a beer can filled with water. He pointed them in the right direction, giving them a toothless grin as they departed. They navigated the tunnels and climbed through an access point, leading to a maintenance shaft that brought them into the basement of the building.

Heading upstairs, they found themselves in what was once a majestic gothic-style structure. The stained-glass windows had long-since blown out. Concrete pillars and arches were marked with holes and craters, and the tiled floors were littered with dust and debris.

So they spent their days exploring — Bleak repeatedly bouncing an old tennis ball he'd found against the crumbling walls. Ma-Ti poked around the offices and upper levels while Linka lay curled up and dozing under the dull glow of the sun peeking through the roof. All three individuals hanging out in a relatively companionable manner until they were finally given the all-clear to return.

* * *

"You are really going to drag that thing back, Gi?" Kwame asked, eyeing the object with derision. "It is the size of my backpack."

"There are now thirty people crammed into my home and I don't trust any of them." Gi clutched her treasured folder to her chest, flicking her hair with a determined look set upon her face. "It's coming with me."

"Fair enough," Kwame muttered.

"Are you sure we're safe to go back?" Ma-Ti asked.

"We don't have a choice," Kwame remarked. "My ring is in my room and we're going to need it. Plus we'll need supplies before we set out again."

"Is there a plan?" Gi asked. She swiped a fly away from the corner of her mouth, stepping carefully around the store-fronts. They were about a block away from Belmont. "For the love of God, tell me you have a plan?"

"Storm the place when they're least expecting it — at night. Find Cap and get him away. Return him to the Earth. I have a feeling he's going to need time to recover. Then we'll head to Nevada, where I'm assuming the time-travel equipment is. Combine our powers and send Linka home."

"He would no longer be grounded since my power has returned," Linka asked, frowning. "Should he not be able to return to the Earth now himself?"

"From what the witnesses have said, Blight had found a way to physically restrain him. Tether him. Beyond that, I am as in the dark as you are, Linka."

"Oh," she said, lowering her head. "Okay."

"I have a feeling we are on a strict time limit, guys," Ma-Ti said, pointing towards the sky. The group stopped, gazing in the direction Ma-Ti was indicating.

"What is that?" Bleak asked. He shielded his eyes, squinting as he stared at the anomaly that was just visible through the break in the skyline.

A jagged streak had appeared above them, visible now between the sky-scrapers in front. It shimmered prettily; silver and glistening. Stretching across the skyline, it looked jarringly out of place.

Kwame stared at the phenomenon, glancing at Ma-Ti in wonder. "Timeline becoming unstable?"

"I am guessing so," Ma-Ti replied worriedly.

They continued on, their eyes switching between the sky and their surroundings. Alert and watchful as they approached the substation.

* * *

Now seated in the common room, Linka had been overjoyed to find a familiar face inside. She threw her arms around Grace's neck and hugged her tightly, talking loudly in an effort to be heard over the chatter.

But now wasn't the time for reunions. They quickly separated, taking a seat beside one another since Kwame had called an emergency meeting with the skeleton crew who had so far returned.

The situation was laid out with complete transparency to the pale, shocked faces within. That four people had been brought here via Blight's machine. Two were now dead and two had survived.

Thirty pairs of eyes focused on Linka and Bleak when Kwame gestured towards them, and Linka blushed brightly, feeling the weight of the stares. Linka couldn't help but notice Grace regarding her with shock as more details slipped out.

Kwame laid out Doctor Blight's plan to travel back to Linka's time, presumably with other members of her group. That their current timeline was already beginning to collapse and that it was imperative that Blight fail. The travellers needed to return home to ensure their own survival.

Kwame stressed that if Blight succeeded, she would effectively doom both their own timeline as well as Linka's.

"What about the two bodies?" Tyreece asked. "Will they need to go through too?"

Linka blinked. She hadn't even considered that Past Blight and Kroi would also need to return.

"I don't know," Kwame said. "But I want to make sure we cover all bases. So it's definitely a good idea."

"Where are they?"

"Scavenger camp about forty miles south of where we picked Linka up," Kwame replied.

Three men and a woman volunteered for the job. Kwame continued talking in commanding tones, discussing their options as Linka narrowed her eyes, observing the former Earth Planeteer.

_The man with the plan._

In control and calling the shots — almost detached from the situation, like a sergeant calling his troops into battle.

She sighed heavily, pushing her hair off her face and glancing around, searching. She spotted Wheeler after a minute of so, seated towards the back and fidgeting beside Ma-Ti who was talking quietly to him. His eyes settled on hers for a moment and she gave him another small smile, hoping for something. Anything. As per usual he lowered his gaze, before turning his attention back towards Ma-Ti and nodding.

Slumping in her chair, Linka quickly faced the front again — dejected and miserable. From that point onwards, the rest of Kwame's instructions became white noise. She watched everyone begin to file out, evidently to rest and replenish themselves.

Linka remained where she was, bidding goodbye to Grace who was returning to her room. Gi had also wandered away with one of the soccer players Linka had met before the raid.

The last of the stragglers departed, leaving her alone with Kwame as he sunk onto a couch tiredly. He glanced up when he noticed Linka still sitting there, regarding him quietly.

She took a deep breath. "What happened between Wheeler and I?"

"Nothing happened —"

"Do not lie to me," she said softly, and his brown eyes widened. "He seems so upset with me."

"He is still grieving you, Linka —"

"You all grieved me, Kwame. The rest of you are not treating me like I have the plague."

"He just needs time, Linka."

"Something is very wrong." She shook her head, running her fingers through her long hair. "I know him. I cannot help but feel that I am still missing a piece of the puzzle."

He stood, approaching slowly and crouching down in front of her. He reached out and grasped her hands. "I am sorry you feel that way."

She stared at him solemnly, her green eyes wide and pleading. "Promise me there is nothing more. No more secrets. That you have told me everything I need to know." Her voice was a mere husk. She felt drained. Numb.

Kwame nodded, squeezing her hands. "All right."

"You of all people always knew how I felt about him," she whispered, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve as she stood and straightened, unable to meet his eyes now. "I miss him."

"Linka, we are not the same people. Everyone here has been affected —"

"But none more than me," she cried, hugging herself. "You have all moved on! You were all able to live! You and Ma-Ti are married, Wheeler is married with a family. Gi is… is…sleeping with half of Belmont, apparently! I have nothing but a cold, dark tomb."

Kwame recoiled at her choice of words, but she pressed on regardless.

"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise me that there is nothing more. I can't… I need to know. I cannot take this anymore."

"I promise," he said. His brown eyes regarded her sadly.

With that, she turned and hurried away, leaving Kwame alone with his thoughts.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" Grace asked as Linka entered the room tiredly, flopping down on the bottom bunk. "Found it on my bed."

"What?" Linka asked. The metal springs above lurched and Grace's head appeared, upside down. Grace dangled the heavy binder briefly within her line of sight. "Oh. It is Gi's photo album."

"Like a brick," Grace muttered, impressed with the weight and dimensions. "So. We're heading off tomorrow, so I really need to recap today's lecture. How old are you? Really? Now?"

Linka smiled. "Twenty-three."

"So you haven't travelled here from Russia?"

" _Nyet._ "

"You've travelled through… time? A time machine?"

" _Da_."

"But you existed here too? For a while?" The bed above sagged and squeaked. "There was another you runnin' around?"

" _Da_."

Linka heard her sigh. "Until Blight killed the older you?"

" _Da_."

"Oh, man," she muttered. "I'm so damn confused."

Linka smiled, spending the next ten minutes filling in the gaps that were missing, bringing her up to speed with everything she knew: everything related to her past and future self.

"Ah. Okay," she said, attempting to make light of the confusing situation. "All righty, then."

"I will admit... the longer I am here, the more questions I have," Linka lamented. She shrugged helplessly. "I really have no idea what is going on. I am just… how do they say? _Going with the flow_."

Grace chuckled. "Fair enough."

"It is like a bad dream," Linka whispered. "I keep expecting to wake up in Doctor Blight's compound. They are all so different, now. So different to how they were."

"Really?"

" _Da_."

"Hmm… I mean, I knew Kwame and Gi were Planeteers." The bed lurched again as Grace resettled herself. "Not many knew, but Gi let slip one night after a few too many vodka's."

"I have heard she tends to do that," Linka remarked drily. "This is all very strange to me."

"Did I spot that Wheeler dude at the back somewhere? He came back?"

" _Da_ ," she said. "Wheeler is here."

_I am not sure why he bothered._

"Wow," she remarked. "Still a bit of a babe."

A smile curled at the corner of Linka's lips, but she remained silent. Pensive.

"I used to have a crush on him when I was younger," Grace admitted. She dropped her hand down the side and passed Linka another squished Hersey's bar. Linka took it gratefully, unwrapping it and placing a square in her mouth. "Like a fine wine. Gotten better with age."

"He is married now," she said softly. "Has children."

"Really?" Grace asked. "You guys always seemed really close from what I saw in the media. Before you disbanded anyway. Never got together?"

" _Nyet_ ," Linka admitted. "Apparently not, it would seem."

"Weren't interested at all?"

"I was stubborn," she replied, deciding to be honest. "I had feelings for him. I guess we never got our chance."

"Oh." Grace dropped her head down over the edge again and regarded Linka apologetically. "Sorry. Tell me if I'm talking too much. Or if it's none of my business."

"It is alright." Linka gave a small smile, tugging on a strand of Grace's dangling hair. "He is barely talking to me now, anyway."

"Oh." Grace changed the subject, noting Linka's despondent mood. "Who's the guy you're with? The bald one with the seventies mo'?"

"Argos Bleak."

"Ah," she said. "Friend?"

"Acquaintance," Linka replied, deciding not to go into the specifics of her complicated relationship with Bleak. "How are things here?"

Grace sighed. "Three of the floodlights are stuffed. Managed to get the fourth one up and running, though. Some of the crops were salvaged. Trissa has been busy replanting them."

"How did you survive the raid?"

"Shot a few arrows," Grace remarked. "May have taken a swan-dive into a wheat barrel to hide."

"I am glad you are all right," Linka breathed, lulled by Grace's friendly banter.

Pages turned above her. "Gi keeps some weird shit in here."

"Like what?"

"All sorts…" Grace said. "Girl needs a filing cabinet."

"She showed me some photographs last night." Linka yawned, curling up on her side and closing her eyes, settling into sleep. Tired and weary now. "What have you found?"

"Um… dolphin photos. Birth certificate. Blue Fin Tuna Company mission statement," she said, an incredulous note to her voice. A slight pause, then the pages continued rustling. "Warranties. Looks like architectural plans. Some murder in England. Uh… weird doodles and —"

Linka's eyes flew open and she sat up quickly, coming close to thumping her head on the bed springs above her. "What did you say?"

"Oh, she's been sketching —"

" _Nyet_ ," she exclaimed, jumping out of her bunk and hauling herself up the ladder. She sunk down beside Grace, reaching for the album. "You mentioned a murder?"

"Oh," Grace muttered, flicking back to a newspaper clipping. "Yeah. Here."

Linka's heart pounded as she scanned the article. No picture, just a small, narrow column with the headline. Maybe one hundred words in total. Tattered and torn, repaired carefully with scotch tape.

She stared at the slip of paper, her hands trembling as she skimmed through the particulars.

_Essex._

_Thirty-one year old woman dead._

_Suspicious circumstances._

_Four witnesses._

_Suspect on the run._

_Investigations are continuing._

Linka clutched the paper tightly. There were no other particulars and Linka blew a frustrated breath outwards.

"I think this was me," she murmured, passing the clipping to Grace. Grace frowned, reading the article slowly as Linka flicked through the folder, searching for something more — anything that would help explain and clarify things.

But there was nothing. She dropped the folder back into Grace's lap and slumped forward, resting her forehead in her palms. She felt Grace's hand rest between her shoulder blades, soothing and rubbing in circular motions.

"Crumbs."

"Huh?"

Linka sighed heavily, flopping back against the wall in defeat. "Just a constant trail of breadcrumbs."

"I know." More rustling. "Hey, future you changed your hair."

" _Da_. It was dyed before I went away."

"Looks nice."

Linka groaned. "It looked like a bee hive. I was a mess."

"No, you don't," she argued. "You look stunning. Gorgeous."

Linka straightened, peering at the image that Grace was passing to her. Her mouth hung open.

It wasn't the same photograph from last night. Linka stared hard at it, enthralled with what she was seeing. Definitely a restaurant. Red and white checkered-tablecloth and empty dishes lining the table, along with countless wine glasses and beer bottles.

She leaned forward, recognising the attractive brunette in the photo. Linka traced her finger over her own face smiling back at her, noting the chestnut, glossy hair falling to her shoulders. Rosy cheeks and bright, green eyes — a distinct contrast to her last day with the group. Wide grin beneath red, pouty lips.

Gi was standing behind her; arms wrapped loosely around Linka's shoulders. She stared at her future-self's hands, folded upwards and resting gently over Gi's.

Part of another figure was visible just out of the frame and judging by the arm bands, Linka knew it was Ma-Ti. She suddenly recalled the conversation she'd had with Gi after finding out she had died.

_We only saw you once after the split — before you died. Maybe eighteen months after you were relocated. We'd all had dinner together. Little restaurant in Sicily._

They'd taken the risk.

Linka gripped the photo, studying her future self carefully. She looked so happy and carefree. Tanned, toned and in all honesty, glowing. Not at all what she had envisioned eighteen months of supposed solitary loneliness would look like.

Then her eyes passed over it.

The small, insignificant little detail that drew her attention back in a snap, almost causing whiplash. The color drained out of Linka's face as she sat numbly; at a loss to process what she was seeing. Scarcely believing her own eyes.

"Oh my God," she gasped. The diamond ring and wedding band glinted, illuminated by the camera flash. "It cannot be?"

"Jesus," Grace remarked, grabbing the photo out of Linka's hands as she brought it closer. She'd seen it too. She tapped her finger on the image, her eyes wide and looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I didn't know you were married?"

"I wasn't," she said, shaking her head in wonder. "They did not… I wasn't."

"Well, that's definitely a nice lookin' rock on your finger," Grace replied quietly, glancing at Linka nervously.

_No more secrets._

Her face contorted with grief. Because he'd lied. They'd lied. They'd all lied to her. They knew. They all had to have known and they'd kept it from her. Willingly. Purposefully.

She tossed the photo back into the folder. Pressing her hands against her face, she crumpled forward.

"All right. Let's just…" Grace sat back, placing her palm on Linka's back again. "Maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"What other conclusion can be drawn from this?" Linka moaned, gesturing towards the picture and wiping tears away angrily. "I knew there was more…"

"Maybe they had a good reason not to tell —"

"No more secrets," she said angrily. "He promised me..."

Cold fury coursed through her veins as her eyes focused again on the engagement ring and wedding band. A minor detail to some but meaning all the world to Linka.

Because it changed everything. She was furious. Utterly furious, since they'd led her to believe she was alone and vulnerable for those six years.

_Bozhe moy. I was married. I had a husband._

This was unforgivable. She slammed the folder shut and tucked it under her arm. Sliding herself off Grace's bunk, Linka stalked off towards the common room.

* * *

Ma-Ti jumped, startled as an object was dumped open into Kwame's lap beside him. Kwame seemed to have the same reaction, twisting and staring up at Linka's irate expression. Her eyes were puffy and her face was swollen with tears. Ma-Ti suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He bit his lip, watching Linka carefully.

"Did you not think I would find out?" she said sharply, addressing Kwame and gesturing towards the folder as she walked around to confront him head-on. "Did you not think I had a right to know?"

"Wait, just calm down, Linka —"

"Do not tell me to calm down, Kwame!" she exploded. "You looked me in the eye today and you told me there were no more secrets!"

Kwame looked down at the picture laying open within his lap, frowning. Not understanding. "I don't know what you're referr —"

"Look closer," she snapped, running her index finger over the ridge of her wedding finger. "Any ideas, yet?"

Dawning realisation spread over Kwame's face and Ma-Ti breathed a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his mouth. The action wasn't lost on Linka.

She turned, addressing Ma-Ti now. "You knew too, I suppose?"

"Linka, it was out of our hands, we —"

"Who is he?"

A muscle in Kwame's jaw twitched. "It's complicated —"

"STOP IT!" she shrieked, covering her ears. The tears were flowing now. She felt so incredibly betrayed, not just by Kwame but by all of them. "JUST STOP IT!"

Ma-Ti jumped to his feet, attempting to gently grip her arms but she pushed him away, swaying as she cried openly.

"Linka, maybe we need to —"

"It is not complicated," she sobbed. "You are all making it complicated. You have been from the —"

"Please understand —"

”Understand what, Kwame? You have given me very little to —“

”I have done my best to —“

”Deceive me? Keep things from me? Allow me to know what you deemed necessary —“

Their irate voices pressed on. Ma-Ti glanced over Linka's shoulder and spotted Wheeler in the doorway, his face grave as he watched on, probably having heard the commotion. His eyes followed Linka as she stepped back, trembling and unable to look anyone in the eye.

Kwame appeared to be in damage control mode. "I think we need to _"

"Ever since I arrived here Kwame, you have withheld the truth from me! You have chosen what to tell me and dictated when to tell me!"

"I had no choice, Linka," he bit back. "This is not a black and white —"

"Has the new job gone to your head, _Nachal'nik_?" she shouted, her temper flaring again. "You needed something else to control? An entire community was not enough?"

"That is not fair, Linka," he said sharply. Kwame jumped to his feet, and Ma-Ti watched on in alarm as he approached Linka, fists balled by his sides. "You —"

"No, it is not fair!" she shrieked. "You have all moved on! You got to live. I guess you could not pass up the opportunity to do a little more damage—"

"Oh, come on Linka, are you serious?"

"How did I die, Kwame? I suppose you are keeping that from me too?" she spat. "Poor little precious Linka, _let us not upset the delicate butterfly_."

"I don't know how you died, Lin —"

"You cannot open your mouth without lying to me! You have involved everyone else in this — they are following your lead! What happened to you, Kwame? You used to be my friend?" she moaned, wrapping her arms around herself. "Tell me! Was I married?"

"It is not my place to —"

"I have a right to know!" she cried. "Was I married?"

"I cannot —"

"JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!" she shouted. "WAS I MARRIED?"

"YES!" Kwame bellowed back. "YOU WERE MARRIED, LINKA!"

She took a step back, shivering. "Who is he?"

Kwame shook his head, despondent but still maintaining eye contact with her. Standing his ground.

" _Poshel na khuy_ ," she whispered. Head down, she turned and strode quickly away, shoulder-barging Wheeler aside as he stood blocking the doorway. "I am done."

Ma-Ti dropped back into his seat. Kwame remained where he was, his mouth a hard line. Her footsteps echoed along the corridor and Ma-Ti glanced again towards Wheeler, seeking something. Support. Affirmation. Approval.

But Wheeler was already gone.


	25. Chapter 25

"Linka, stop!"

Wheeler's voice called out from somewhere behind her. Ignoring him, she grabbed a bag from under Grace's bed and hurried towards her meagre pile of possessions.

"Just wait a damn minute — "

" _Po'shyol 'na hui_ ," she snapped, barely noticing Grace still sitting on the top bunk and watching the exchange awkwardly. Linka gritted her teeth and doubled her efforts, furiously tossing clothes and supplies into her back pack. She turned, tossing the bag over her shoulder and marching towards the door. "I am done with it all. Enough. I am leaving."

"You don't understand," he began, blocking the doorway again; hands outward in an effort to calm the irate girl. "Just —"

"I do not understand?" she repeated, incredulous at his choice of words. Linka tried to push her way through but he refused to budge, grabbing her wrists in an effort to hold her there. "Really?"

"You have no idea what went down —"

"No!" She lunged forward, eyes blazing. "I do not understand anything, Wheeler! No one has given me the chance! I have been fed nothing but lies since I arrived here! Keeping secrets and… and…" She stumbled, becoming flustered, frustrated at her inability to come up with a suitable word. "How dare you —"

"Oh, get over it, Linka," he shot back and she recoiled, outraged that he was speaking to her this way. Having said that, this was technically the only conversation she'd had with him since he'd arrived — even if they were yelling at one another. "You think you're the only one who hasn't —"

"I had a husband!" she interrupted. "Did that detail simply slip your minds? Did you not think that was important information? Do I not have a right to know who is he? Where —"

"We were doing it to protect you!" Wheeler held tight to her wrists, closing the distance between them as she wriggled to escape from his grasp.

"Protect me?" she shrieked. Linka prised her hands away and shoved past him, her irate voice echoing down the corridor. " _Bozhe moy_ , Wheeler. You have some nerve. You should have all been honest with me from the start! So much for friendship!"

"How was that conversation supposed to go down, Linka?" he replied angrily, glaring at the back of her head as she hurried towards the subway access hole. He followed close behind; her curls bouncing violently with each step. "How were we supposed to tell you? Like, _welcome to the future. By the way, your future's fucked. You're married, now you're dead and Blight fucking killed you_?"

"I have never received anything from you but truth and honesty during my past, Wheeler. Now?" She laughed bitterly, gesturing towards the common room. "I do not recognise any of you. You are all strangers to me!"

"We're not strangers," he said, exasperated. He side-stepped around her and cut her off upon reaching the manhole ladder, blocking her access. An awkward shuffle ensued and she finally stilled, watching him sullenly from beneath her lashes. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. "You don't… you have no idea how hard it's been!"

"Then tell me!" she cried. Linka hugged herself, standing stiffly in front of him. "Tell me! Because Gi is drinking and sleeping with whoever she can get her hands on! Kwame is a… a…" She shivered. "He has done nothing but lie to me! Try to control me! Keep secrets from me! Yet you are all playing along, following his.… "

"We've all done what we have to in order to survive, Linka!" He glared at her; balling his hands into fists. "You have no right to judge us! You've had four weeks here, we've been —"

"AND YOU! " she yelled, rounding on him angrily. "You have barely said two kind words to me since I arrived! You cannot even look me in the eye! You refuse to be in the same room as me! You… you cannot bear to touch me! We used to be friends!"

"It's too hard, I can't —"

"What did I do to you?" she cried, lashing out and shoving him hard; the bitterness and anger finding an outlet. "What on earth did I do to you, Wheeler? Why do you hate me? What happened between us?"

"You didn't do anything," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets; intent on staring at the floor again. " I can't… We… we just —"

"You are breaking my heart," she wept, and his face softened just a little. Linka shook her head, wiping tears away as she pushed past him. Readjusting the bag over her shoulder, she gripped the ladder and hauled herself upwards, one step at a time. "Enough. I do not trust any of you. I am better off on my own."

"Linka, would you just —"

He made a grab for her ankle, and she kicked out at him in retaliation, doubling her efforts; desperate to get as far away from her former friends as possible.

"Linka, just —"

"Leave me alone!"

"Ah, fuckin' hell..."

He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her away, earning himself an elbow to the ribs for his efforts. Wheeler grunted but didn't relinquish his hold.

"Get off me," she cried, her feet flailing and striking the bottom rung with a resounding _clang_. Wheeler swung her around and dropped her to the ground again. Ignoring her furious expression, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her hard against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of her.

"God damn it! Would you just stop and talk to me?"

"You have had all this time to talk to me, Wheeler!" she shouted. "You chose to ignore me! Treat me like gum on the bottom of your —"

"That's not fair! You can't just waltz in and expect to —"

"I was kidnapped! I had no choice in the matter!"

"NEITHER DID WE!" he bellowed back, red-faced and looking furious as he bore down on her. "DID YOU EVER STOP TO THINK THAT WE'D —"

"OH, SILLY INCONSIDERATE ME!" she screamed, too far gone to notice the shocked onlookers gathering nearby. "HOW DARE I INTERFERE WITH YOUR PERFECT LITTLE LIFE WITH YOUR PERFECT LITTLE —"

"THAT'S GOT NOTHIN' TO DO WITH IT!" he raged, slamming his hand against the wall. "WE'VE SPENT THE PAST FEW YEARS TRYIN' TO MOVE ON AND NOW IT'S ALL GETTIN' DRAGGED UP AGAIN!"

"HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?"

"GOD-DAMN INCAPABLE OF LEAVIN' THINGS ALONE —"

"I NEVER ASKED TO BE HERE!"

"I WISH YOU'D NEVER COME HERE!"

Wheeler's mouth snapped shut. He took a step back, stunned; seeming to regret his choice of words, but it was too late.

The damage had been done.

"GO TO HELL!" she screamed hoarsely, breaking down, unable to listen anymore. She dropped her face into her hands and wrenched away from him; deep, ragged sobs escaping her lips. "GO TO HELL, WHEELER!"

The levy had broken and she crumpled against the wall, wailing into her palms. "I JUST WANT TO GO HOME! I HATE IT HERE! I HATE IT..."

Linka staggered away. She fled blindly through the tunnels; embarrassed and humiliated at breaking down in front of the one person she had always maintained her defences for. Eventually she felt resistance as Wheeler caught up. He grabbed hold of her, pulling her back towards him. His arms encircled her and she put up another half-hearted struggle to extract herself before giving up, slumping forward and pressing her forehead against his chest, crying openly.

He seemed to have calmed down.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," he murmured, resting his chin against the top of her head. She closed her eyes and cried harder, burrowing closer as he held her. He moved his mouth against her ear and she felt his breath, warm and close against her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"I am sorry too," she wept, her voice muffled against his shirt. She sniffed, flattening her palms against his sweatshirt and refusing to meet his eyes. "I am sorry that coming here was such an inconvenience for you. I am sorry that being here has interrupted time with your wife and your happy little family."

He sighed, burying his face in her hair and hugging her tighter. "It's not like that."

She shuddered, drying her face against his chest before a new wave of tears began. "When I am gone, you can be back on your way to them again."

"Is that what you think?"

She shrugged her shoulders, still purposely avoiding his gaze. "How can I not?"

"It's not like that," he said, leaning back and holding her face in his hands. She closed her eyes, tilting her cheek against Wheeler's touch as he rubbed her tears away with his thumb. Vivid blue eyes gazed down at her and she found herself studying the creases at the corners of his eyes — comparing his features to the man she knew back in her own time.

Opportunities for closer scrutiny had been rather limited thus far and she took full advantage. There was an increased smattering of freckles covering the bridge of his nose. He looked so very tired. Red-rimmed eyes and a pervading sadness that seemed to linger around him.

"What did I do to you?" she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him back. "You have changed so much. I do not know you anymore."

"You don't understand." This time, the words weren't said in anger. They were spoken with intense regret and grief, and Linka wasn't sure which was worse. He was staring down at her with a look of misery that took her breath away. "I can't do this again."

"Just tell me. What did I do to you?" she implored, raising her tear-stained face to his as he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. Her sobs had quietened into soft hiccups. "You cannot keep treating me like this. I cannot take it any more."

"It's not what you think —"

"At least tell me so I can fix things when I return." She cupped his cheek briefly, before readjusting the backpack and reaching for the ladder again. "No more secrets. It ends here. You either tell me or I am gone."

"Damn it, Linka."

He sighed heavily, releasing Linka's face with a pained expression. He ran his hand through his hair and took a step back, looking flustered. Her arms dropped to her sides again and she found herself mourning the loss of his warmth.

She sniffed as he turned, reaching for her hand and pulling her along behind him. She stumbled slightly, gripping tightly to him and doing her best to ignore the curious glances from those they passed. "What? Where are we…"

"C'mon."

Linka let him lead her through the tunnels, winding their way through the narrow passageways. They entered the communal area and he tugged her onwards, nodding towards the maintenance scaffolding above them. They climbed the stairs, feet treading loudly over the metal until they reached the suspension bridge section.

Wheeler let go of her hand about a third of the way across. He crouched down in one swift movement, settling himself down and leaning forward until his legs were dangling over the edge. After a moment, Linka sat beside him: resting her arms on the safety wire as she glanced down at the tiny figures bustling around far below their feet, making repairs and cleaning up.

Her eyes shifted to Wheeler, and he looked lost in thought, staring at nothing in particular. She was struck again by how different he was. Quiet. Reflective. The spark had long since departed, the flame all but extinguished.

She found herself grieving the loss of their former flirty exchanges. The cuddles and random displays of affection. The jokes. The relentless optimism. Their ability to find comfort and contentment in one another.

Wheeler had always been a source of joy and positivity in her life — she had taken him for granted for far too long. She knew that now.

But she had glimpsed a shadow of his old self — on the phone to his wife and child the week before.

_He is like this just around me._

"What did I do to you?" she asked again, reaching out and brushing his cheek with the back of her index finger. Wheeler closed his eyes and leaned forward with a sigh.

"You died."

"And yet you would blame me for this?" she pushed gently. "You are married. You have obviously moved on."

He shook his head, resting his chin on his arms. "I never moved on from you."

"What does that —"

He sat forlornly, shifting himself and settling his gaze on the subway sign. "You weren't meant to know anything. We were just gonna turn you around and get you home. Minimum fuss. Keeping the personal shit to ourselves — that was the rule."

"Kwame's rule?" She frowned at Wheeler's lack of response, feeling hot bitterness coursing through her. "Ever since I arrived… Kwame has no right to keep secrets from me."

"It's not Kwame's fault."

"I had a husband! Is he even alive?"

"Yeah."

"Who is he? Do I even know him?" She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Why would Kwame choose to keep the fact that I am married from —"

He looked away. "It was my decision to keep that from you."

"What? Why?" she said sharply, honestly bewildered. "Did you not think —"

His blue eyes rose to meet hers and she trailed off as he reached for her hand. He caressed her fingers gently, running his touch up and down along her knuckles and the question she was poised to ask died on her lips.

He gave her a small smile. "Still as God-damn stubborn as the first day I met you."

"It is my most endearing trait," Linka replied softly. "And do not change the subject, Yankee."

He nodded, letting go of her hand. "It was my decision not to tell you. Everything... It's all on me. Don't blame Kwame, he's been through enough. Everything he's done…" He trailed off. His jaw was set; eyes narrowed and piercing. "I never told them how you died."

"Wheeler," she breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. "Do you know what happened to me?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head. "No more secrets."

Wheeler hung his head. "There's no goin' back from this."

"I need to know."

He nodded, staring off into space; a faraway look on his face. Finally he straightened, as if resigning himself to the inevitable.

"Blight officially lost the plot after the virus was uploaded. MAL was gone. She swore revenge. Blamed you."

"All right," she whispered.

"You put on a brave face at first, but you were fucking terrified. It happened so fast. We had a window of twelve hours from the moment you were given the relocation order."

"Twelve hours notice?"

"Unmarked van was picking you up the next morning. You had to disappear. We barely had enough time to say goodbye."

"What about my family?"

"One phone call, then no contact. With anyone."

She stared at him, struggling to comprehend what her future self went though. "Surely they could have given me more time?"

Wheeler shook his head. "The power and internet hadn't been infiltrated at that point. Blight still had access to online databases under your birth name, so it wasn't worth the risk."

"They took me away?" she asked, listening intently. Wheeler nodded.

"Yeah. New identity. New name and birth records eventually, too. You took precautions. Gi cut and dyed your hair the night before you left." He smiled at the distant memory. "Once you were settled, you even took articulation lessons. Worked on your speech and language patterns. Tried to blend in."

"It obviously did not work," she said in a low voice and he shook his head.

"No. You were moved several times because Blight got too close. Safer that way."

"What happened?"

He bit his lip, gripping the safety wire tightly. "Blight couldn't get her hands on your actual physical address but she managed to find out your mailing address — a PO box. We still don't know how. She had Gi's handwriting on file and forged a letter from her. You hadn't seen Gi for a long time and you were missin' her like crazy."

"She lured me out?" Linka whispered, her eyes wide.

"The letter gave a time and a place where Gi would supposedly be waiting for you. Said she'd pop by at the same time all week in the hope you guys could catch up. Public place. Town square. Around lunch time, so crowds would be around. I guess it lulled you into a false sense of security."

"How do you know all this?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. "You said it yourself, there was no contact —"

He didn't seem to hear. Either that or he was purposely skirting the question. "The poison was delivered via a trigger system. Spring-loaded mechanism, attached to the tip of an umbrella. Very old-style KGB. Probably designed to look like a Russian Intelligence hit."

"Oh my God", she moaned. The blood drained from Linka's face as she gaped at him. Wheeler leaned over the guard rain, looking utterly miserable at having to dredge up the memories.

"It'd just started to rain. Talk about the odds being stacked against ya." He looked away, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Umbrellas everywhere. Blight did it herself. You had no clue what was comin'."

He made a sharp thrusting motion with his free hand. "Back of the thigh. Pierced your jeans."

Linka sat in stunned silence, her green eyes wide and unfocused. She leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

"It took thirty seconds for you to collapse. Apparently people came runnin' from every direction. The witnesses said you started convulsing as soon as you hit the ground. Another two to three minutes for the poison to work its way around your bloodstream."

"Wheeler?" she whispered, reaching out and touching his upper arm. The muscles beneath were tense and she was dismayed to see that his eyes were glistening. "Oh God, how do you know all this?"

"Another minute and you went into cardiac arrest. Your heart stopped." He dropped his chin against his chest. "You died in the rain that day, with a retired couple from London holdin' your hand — and our daughter screamin' for her mommy in the background."

Linka's blood ran cold. The world seemed to stop turning. Linka clapped a hand to her mouth, analysing and re-analysing the last sentence, picking it apart; wondering if she could have possibly misheard it.

But she hadn't. She knew she hadn't.

_Our daughter._

"Our daughter?" she whispered. "What —"

"Phones were out at that stage. Power was on the verge. I came home to two police officers and a fireman at our door. The neighbours had gone searchin' for a couple of beat cops. Worried about the smoke —the kitchen was nearly on fire. You and the kids had been makin' brownies for me. You were so excited about that fucking letter that you'd left the damn oven on."

"Wheeler," she whispered, wiping away fresh tears. "I… oh God, I do not know what do say."

"There's nothin' to say," he said, glancing at her again and looking as utterly miserable as she felt. Her heart broke. "The police said there'd been a death two blocks from our apartment. Young woman with no identification. Two kids under five bein' looked after. I just knew… I knew in my heart it was you."

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the cool metal. Wheeler's hand pressed warm and firm against the back of her neck and she sighed, relishing the contact. She shuffled her body closer towards him and snuggled into his side, burying her face in the warmth of his neck. He draped an arm across her shoulders.

"I picked up the kids. Took 'em home. Signed you out of the morgue after the autopsy. Contacted the others since there was no use hidin' anymore. They came to see you. To say goodbye. We shipped you home to Russia, as per the original will."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she whispered, trembling as she wiped more tears away. "But they told me you were married. I heard you talking on the radio to a woman —"

"My sister-in-law," he said, pausing before correcting himself. "Our sister-in-law. Brought the kids back to the US after you died. Mishka and his wife followed, they live close by."

"Oh God," she murmured. "I can't believe…"

"They're lookin' after the kids while I'm here." He gave her a wistful smile, rolling his wedding ring around his finger. "And I still consider myself married. There's been no one since you."

"Oh God," she breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it nearly broke me. Broke us. To this day, I've never even been able to talk about it — I haven't told the others how you died. I stayed away. Did my best to carry on, but…" He sighed, bumping his temple gently against her own. "I've spent the last few years clawin' my way back, knowing that eventually you'd come back to us — and then you'd have to leave again."

The pieces finally fell into place. The lack of eye contact. Avoiding her company. Being overly stand-offish. It had all been a defence mechanism. Wheeler had kept his distance — and kept the truth from her — purely for his own survival.

"It was my decision not to tell you about me and the kids. It was just easier to shut you out than let you in again. I wanted things that way and Kwame and the others respected my wishes. I can't get attached to you again. I can't. I'm tryin' so hard not to. I gotta be okay for the kids."

"I am so sorry, Yankee," she whispered, unable to put into words what she was feeling. She touched his cheek, seeing him in a whole new light. A thought occurred to her. "After the Planeteers ended —when I went into hiding — you came with me, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Were we together before that?" she asked gently.

"No." He smiled to himself. "Night before you left, I laid it all out on the line. Told you how I felt. I just couldn't bear the thought of losin' you." He grinned suddenly and Linka's heart leapt, overjoyed at the expression that lit up his face. "I was kinda expectin' you to tell me to fuck off, in all honesty."

She grinned back at him, placing her hand on his thigh and leaning against him. They sat in silence for a while, their legs swinging idly while Linka composed her thoughts. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She hadn't been aware of the emotional toll his demeanour was causing. The heavy feeling in her chest was gone; replaced by swirling butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Not nerves, not anxiety — but a breathless anticipation.

The knowledge that she had an intimate history with this man occurred to her. The thought was powerful in it's simplicity and she flushed pink, hiding her face within the folds of his jacket. That she had obviously loved him, and lived with him and slept with him. Borne babies and created a life with him, before Blight had viciously cut them down.

"I've never forgiven myself for not being there. I still struggle with that. We didn't even get to say goodbye to you. Hannah still remembers that day… she has nightmares."

"Hannah?" Linka peered up at him, suddenly desperate to grasp an insight into the life they'd apparently made. "Our daughter?"

"Hannah and Eli," he said. He turned his head away, swearing under his breath. "God, I shouldn't even be —"

"Do you have a photograph," she asked breathlessly, eager to know the details. Feeling a little light-headed and giddy. "Of the —"

"Yeah," he answered, but made no move to retrieve one.

"Can I see them?"

"I don't know whether that's —"

She held out her hand expectantly, quirking her eyebrow. " _Pozhaluysta_?"

Wheeler rolled his eyes, muttering something about stubborn Russians, and a bubble of laughter escaped from her lips. He reached for his wallet, which seemed to hold very little except personal mementoes, now.

He pulled out a photo and passed it to her. Linka made a small noise, running the tip of her finger over the smiling faces.

"Oh," she exclaimed softly, staring at her miniature self beaming from a photo. It was obviously from when the children were much younger but Linka couldn't help grinning at the resemblance. Hannah's straw coloured hair was thick and wavy, topped off with a red hair band.

The baby had a fine covering of red hair and looked to have recently cut a tooth. His gummy grin was quite precious. They were propped up against a backdrop of books and toys and she assumed it was a studio image.

"Hannah's eight now. Eli's nearly four."

She smiled, wondering if her older self had chosen the outfits, dressed them and marched them into the photography studio herself. A task so mundane, but the thought delighted her nonetheless. 

"Oh, look at them...They are beautiful."

"She's a carbon copy of her freakin' mom," he said, watching as Linka traced a fingertip over Hannah's red and white summer dress. Wheeler smiled as he peered over her shoulder.

"What is she like?"

"Gorgeous. Very clever. Major attitude." He sighed. "Your brother calls her _Little Linka_."

She raised her eyes to his, feeling a lump rising in her throat. "Little Linka?"

"Says she's the spitting image of you as a kid."

" _Da_ , she is," she breathed, shaking her head slightly at history repeating itself. Linka smiled, noting Eli's red hair with delight. "And the _malyutka_?"

"Wild man. Absolute clown. Annoys the shit outta his sister on a daily basis." He chuckled, leaning back. "Reminds me of another dynamic I used to know."

"Mmmm," she replied distractedly, unable to take her eyes off them. She found herself struggling to wipe the stupid grin off her face. The weight had been lifted. 

Clutching the photo tightly, she studied the children closely. Committing their features to memory. They were just perfect. More than she had ever hoped for, or had ever contemplated.

Suddenly anxious to learn more, she glanced up at him. "You do not have more recent photos?"

"That is the most recent photo, babe," he remarked slowly, and her heart leapt at the familiar term of endearment. He gestured toward the crumpled glossy paper. "Not like I can pop down to the local pharmacy to get 'em developed."

"Do you have any photos of me? Of us?" she asked, not bothering to act coy about it. She had a desperate desire to know more now.

"Yeah," he replied slowly. "I do."

She frowned as he made no move to retrieve anything. "Do I get to see them?"

"Nope," he said firmly. "They're in Kwame's room. Gimme time. I'm hangin' by a thread here."

"I don't... I didn't mean to…" she stammered, flushing and feeling incredibly selfish about pestering him; dredging it all up. "If it is easier, I can —"

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said. He groaned, dropping his forehead into his palms. "You make it seriously hard for a guy to ignore a girl in peace, ya know that?"

"Sorry." She blushed self-consciously. Linka pursed her lips, breathing out slowly and letting the tension ebb away from her body. "I will try to behave myself."

"Uh huh." He sighed, staring down at the tunnels below. "Yeah. I'm goin' to bed."

"Good night, Yankee." She raised her hand, watching him get unsteadily to his feet.

A hand dropped down and grasped the photo still clutched within her hands. Linka made a frustrated noise, not quite ready to relinquish it. She gripped it tightly, grumbling under her breath but Wheeler tugged it free.

"Mine," he muttered, placing the image back in his wallet before walking away with a backwards glance levelled over his shoulder. "Get your own, Russki."

" _Mudak_ ," she called out after him.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice echoing long after he had descended the stairs.

She grinned in spite of herself, swinging her legs again, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself as Wheeler disappeared into the crowd below. 

She leaned over, spotting Kwame's figure standing off to the left, just outside of the tunnel to the common room. He looked tense; arms folded across his chest and peering up at her worriedly.

Linka winced, feeling a deep sense of shame and embarrassment, aware that she owed Kwame a major apology for her outburst.

She rose to her feet and descended nervously, knowing now that Kwame had shouldered the burden of responsibility — and her temper — unfairly. It was apparent that Kwame had spent the past month stuck between a rock and a hard place.

His loyalty to Wheeler had been unwavering, however. He had willingly borne the brunt of Linka's accusations in an effort to make things easier for his best friend.

Heading across the metal communal area, she halted in front of him. "I am so, so sorry, Kwame," she whispered. "I have behaved terribly. I —"

"Apologies are not needed, Linka. You did not know," he replied, holding his arms out. They embraced, swaying slightly amongst the cleaning crews hurrying past. "He is my best friend. I would do anything for him."

" _Da_ , well it is all out in the open, now."

"Thank God," he said sagely, rubbing his brow. "I have spent the last couple of weeks trying to convince him to come clean."

Linka nodded. The arguments and tense words exchanged between the two men during her time here made sense now. "I am sorry about before," she murmured against his shirt.

"I thought I was going to have to physically restrain you for a while there," he muttered, shaking his head. "I almost forgot how temperamental you could be."

She laughed, tipping her forehead against his chest. "I have two children," she whispered, releasing him and wandering away, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"Technically _you_ don't," Kwame called back, but she waved him off, wandering back to Grace's room in a daze.

Nothing could dampen her mood.


	26. Chapter 26

_"Take a look at it," she says, hunched over the laptop perched precariously on her lap. The green script continues to run down the monitor, illuminating the soft features of the woman sitting in front of it. "It is complex, yet so simple in nature. Do you see the way the coding ebbs and flows?"_

_"Nope. No idea." Gi scratches her nose, squinting at the laptop from her position on the queen-sized bed. "Looks like a bunch of random letters to me," she mutters, crossing her legs underneath her._

_"As much as I hate Blight, I cannot deny the brilliance of her programming."_

_"Uh huh," Gi replies. "Yep, she's somethin' alright."_

_The rain is pouring down outside of their hotel room window; wind lashing the glass and causing rivulets of water to track down the translucent surface._

_"Nyet." Linka shakes her head. She passes her finger down the screen, her lips slightly parted. Her hair is still sleep tousled and an imprint of the seam of her pillowcase runs down her left cheek. "In a way, I cannot help but admire her. The source code is a work of art."_

_Linka leans back, spinning herself around on the swivel chair. Thoughtful now. Reflective. She uses her legs to propel herself towards Gi, stopping just shy of the ensemble mattress they had shared overnight._

_"Wish this stupid file wasn't giving us such a headache," Gi mutters, glaring out into the rain. "I'm over cleanin' up the damage it's causing."_

_"It will only get worse, Gi. It keeps changing. It adapts."_

_"How do you mean?"_

_"It latches itself onto software. Embeds itself onto servers and it evolves. Builds upon the files. The way it … what is the word?" Linka sighs, frustrated. "Manipulates. The way it manipulates existing programs is frightening."_

_"Hmm." Gi pulls on a sweatshirt and runs a comb through her hair. She stands wearily, pulling her jeans on before reaching for her boots. They have another full day ahead of them and the weather outside is not encouraging. "Stupid Blight."_

_Gi looks exhausted — dark shadows are present under her eyes. Linka has the beginnings of a cold. Her eyes are watering as she coughs quietly into her handkerchief._

_"Ugh," she sniffs. "I do not have time to be sick."_

_"We don't have time for anything, anymore," Gi replies — a tinge of bitterness to her voice. "Did you call back that government guy, Lin?"_

_"I have not had the time," she answers._

_The message had arrived courtesy of a stern, authoritative voice from a perfectly plain-sounding government agency. Some cautious digging online and Linka had quickly discovered links with the CIA. The message had come out of the blue and she had been unsettled by the implications, to say the least._

_"What did the message say?"_

_"Something about wanting to meet with me." Linka dresses quickly, pulling a beanie over her wavy locks and applying a layer of lip gloss. "A matter of security, or urgency or something…"_

_"What do you think they want?"_

_Linka shrugs, eyeing the laptop warily. "I have my suspicions."_

_"Probably forgot where they left their floppy disc," Gi mutters and Linka smiles, shoving her friend playfully._

_"Da," she says, but her mind has been working overtime since the voice message first appeared on her phone. She sneezes twice into her cupped hands, then folds them neatly within her lap. She feels a headache coming on. "I am looking forward to a home cooked meal sometime soon."_

_"Hmph." Gi scrunches up her nose. "Roast dinner. Vegetables. Maybe next year."_

_A knock at the door startles them. Gi jumps up and opens the door, and Ma-Ti is hovering in the hallway. Gi ushers him inside and Linka senses that he is as weary as they are. She gives him a half-wave as she grabs her jacket._

_"Hey there," Ma-Ti says, his tone a little more chirpier than the girls. "We're heading down to eat. You coming?"_

_"Yeah. We're ready," Gi answers. The girls grab the room key and their purses, following Ma-Ti into the corridor._

_The trio chat on the way to the elevator, their voices bouncing around the narrow corridor. Linka folds her arms, staring blankly at the numbers climbing upwards on the electronic display. She leans against the wall, feeling rather overwhelmed about the day ahead. She smiles though as she hears a familiar Brooklyn drawl approaching._

_"Damn, I'm starvin'." He halts behind her — close enough that she can feel his body heat. He rubs his hands together and Linka isn't sure whether it's because of the cold or in anticipation of food. She assumes the latter. "Hope they have a decent hot breakfast."_

_"You may be in for disappointment, Yankee," Linka says, throwing a smirk over her shoulder. "I am sure the receptionist only mentioned continental breakfasts."_

_"Aw, shit." Wheeler groans, disappointed beyond words. "Seriously? We've lived on power bars and gatorade for the last month. I need a bacon fix."_

_"Pray to the bacon Gods, Wheeler," Gi suggests. "You never know."_

_"I'll build a freakin' shrine to Miss Piggy if it gets me a few rashers." The doors ping and they file inside. "Eggs. Sausages. Tomato."_

_"You whine like a mule, Wheeler," Linka says quietly, and he retaliates — reaching forward with both hands and gripping the bottom of her beanie. He pulls it down over her eyes and nose, holding on tightly as she huffs, trying to squirm out of his reach._

_"You were sayin'?"_

_"Get off me, Wheeler!" she squeals, circling blindly and inadvertently bumping into what she assumes is Kwame's large frame. Kwame grumbles under his breath, stepping away from the melee. She struggles, alternating between trying to prize Wheeler's fingers away and elbowing whatever body part she comes into contact with._

_The doors open. He releases her and she stumbles out into the foyer, disorientated and breathing heavily. He strides past, eyebrows raised and she places a well-aimed kick to his rear for good measure._

_Linka rolls her eyes but she is flushed and grinning nonetheless — her mood significantly lifted. She falls into step beside Gi as they enter the dining room. Taking their seats, she glances towards the buffet table and the line of people already piling food onto their plates._

_"Ooh," Wheeler exclaims happily, not even bothering to claim a chair. He makes a beeline for the food without waiting for the others, a significant spring in his step._

_There was bacon after all._

* * *

Argos Bleak stared at the over-crowded common room — propped against the wall; legs drawn up to his chest and elbows resting casually over his knees.

He was craving caffeine. A heavy coffee drinker, it was not unheard of for Bleak to consume seven to eight cups per day. The coffee kept him sharp. On edge and alert, ready for whatever dumb plan his boss had him administering for the day.

But now, stuck in this rabbit warren with a bunch of over-achieving, jumpy little up-starts… he would have been willing to kill for even a whiff of coffee beans.

He sneered as a giggling trio of girls passed in front of him, giving him a cursory glance. Dressed in drab colours, they sported army-fatigue outfits fashioned in revealing styles — leaving very little to the imagination.

A sort of army-grunge fashion statement, but with their mid-riffs showing — tits on display and perfectly positioned rips in their cargo pants designed to show the maximum amount of skin. The complete lack of functionality was apparently solved through the use of bulky trench coats.

_Pathetic._

They tittered and cackled loudly, and Bleak had to restrain himself from telling them to fuck off. He wasn't in the mood.

They loitered beside him and he scowled, silently willing them to go away.

_Don't sit down. Move. Shove off._

They dropped down to the ground beside him and Bleak cringed. Their voices grated on him and he swore under his breath, grinding his teeth and glaring ahead. Bleak had never possessed the ability to tolerate idiots well.

Glancing around, he took in the tense atmosphere. There was a nervous energy amongst the people here. Some were pacing, others were standing around and talking; eyes darting back and forth in anticipation. Around thirty individuals were currently packed into the small common room, awaiting further instructions.

Waiting for the signal to leave.

Bleak was apprehensive. The Barbara Blight he knew was nuttier than a fruit cake. This Future Blight sounded downright terrifying and the idea of rocking up on her doorstep didn't exactly sound very appealing. He knew of at least two people Blight had murdered in cold blood during this future timeline — Plunder, along with Blondie's future self.

Speaking of Blondie, he spotted her across the room; sitting with a freckle-faced brunette on the sofa. She was staring off into space, a faraway look on her face while her new friend talked quietly in her ear about something.

A complete contradiction to the morons carrying on beside him, the Wind Planeteer looked relaxed and a great deal more classy — dressed modestly in a black cable-knit sweater and denim jeans. Her blonde hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders. The scars and cuts were fading and her face no longer reflected the pale, deer-in-the-headlights look.

He pushed himself off the floor and left the shrieking gaggle of ducks beside him, heading towards his time-travelling partner.

"Shove over," he muttered upon reaching her, hitching his thumb to the right.

She looked up in surprise, distracted from whatever thoughts she was mulling over. " _Mudak,"_  she muttered under her breath, but she moved closer towards her friend all the same.

He dropped into the seat beside her with a huff, nodding towards the trio of hair-brained women he'd left behind. "Did IQ's drop sharply over the past eleven years?"

"Nah, they're airheads by nature," the other girl said. She extended her hand towards Bleak. "I don't think we've met. I'm Grace."

Bleak ignored her. "We really fucking doin' this?"

" _Da_ ," Linka replied, wincing as she gave Grace an apologetic smile. "Don't mind Bleak. Manners are not in his vocabulary."

"When are we leavin'?"

"Within the hour. Are you packed?"

He have her an incredulous stare. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"What?"

"I brought the clothes on my back through the portal. So did you. What the hell would you —"

"Maybe if you were a decent human being Bleak — you know,  _nice_  to people — you would have more possessions than you started out with."

"Does stealing count?"

" _Nyet._ "

"Yeah, whatever." Bleak folded his arms. "This is a bad idea. It's what Blight wants."

"We have no choice.” She regarded him quietly, her green eyes narrowed. Bleak squared his shoulders, uncomfortable about being under such close scrutiny. "You are not scared, are you Bleak?"

"Fuck off," he muttered. "I've just heard some horror stories about how Blight deals with intruders. Not particularly looking forward to ringin' her doorbell."

"What have you heard?" 

Bleak ran a hand over his head as he recalled a conversation he'd had with an old-timer back at the Metro system. "Crazy bitch has been experimenting on people. Choppin' off limbs. Stringin' bodies up on telegraph poles and road signs as a warning. Completely lost her mind."

"Rumours, I am sure," Linka said but his words had obviously unsettled her. She looked down, clasping her hands in her lap and swallowing nervously.

"Don't think so," Bleak replied. "Word is that some of the weirdos on the streets at night are collecting people for her."

Linka shifted, clearly unsettled. "I do not think —"

"Oh, come on," he snapped. "She killed Plunder by throwing him under a bus and that was several years ago. She's had all this time to refine her skills. We don't even know how you died. For all you know —"

"I was poisoned."

Bleak paused, his mouth dropping open at the revelation. "What?"

"I was poisoned," she said quietly. "Blight injected me with something. She killed me in front of my children."

"Poisoned?" Bleak gaped at her. "Wait, did you say children?"

She nodded — that faraway look passing over her features again. A hint of a smile played upon her lips and her cheeks were a soft pink.

"When did you find this out?"

"Just last night," she answered. She gestured towards a folder lying discarded by the wall. Purple in colour with lots of overlapping papers sticking out from within the pages. "Found out a few things."

"I thought they didn't know how you died?"

"Her husband finally cracked," Grace piped up and Linka elbowed her, shushing her quietly. "What? Is it a secret?"

"Huh?" Bleak snapped his fingers in front of Linka's face to gain her attention, and she blinked, recoiling. "Someone gonna fill me in on —"

"Oh, the truth came out last night. Linka was married," Grace teased, pointing her index finger towards the entrance, "to that fine specimen over there."

He followed her lead, craning his neck and spotting Pyro sitting close to the doorway, eyeing Bleak with a mixture of disdain and suspicion.

Bleak glanced back at Linka, perplexed. She now wore a bashful grin and he watched her tuck her hair behind ears that were rapidly turning red.

_Ah, fuckin' hell._

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he moaned, staring at Linka incredulously. "No way."

"Yep," Grace confirmed. "Lost her temper, gained a husband."

"I did not lose my temper," Linka muttered. "I simply —"

"Admit it. You went nuts," Grace said, grinning. "It was awesome… what I saw of it, anyway."

"It was not common knowledge," Linka hissed. "I do not think he wants people to —"

"You and Red?" Bleak shook his head. "So much for lil miss  _nyet, zere is noz-ing between us_."

Linka shrugged, reaching for a piece of freshly-made bread and looking nauseatingly content with the way things had turned out.

"Jesus," Bleak lamented. "You were just startin' to get interesting, ya know that?"

"Happy to disappoint you, Bleak," she replied airily.

Bleak's stomach rumbled as he watched her finish munching on the rest of the bread. "So why the fuck is he still ignoring you?"

"He is not ignoring me," she said softly. "I said I would give him time and I intend to do so."

"Ugh," he muttered. "Morons."

Linka paid him no attention. She turned to Grace, a question forming on her lips. "Does Gi know that I know? I have not seen her since we returned to —"

Grace shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't come back to our room last night. She should be here by now."

Bleak watched as Linka bit her lip, deep in thought but her reply was drowned out by a loud whistle. The trio turned, startled as they watched Kwame hurry into the room, followed closely by Tyreece.

"All right people, we're not waiting any longer. Listen up…"

* * *

The rest of the crowd filed out of the common room, heading towards the manhole exit with their bags and supplies. Linka remained in her seat next to Bleak, who sat with an impassive, stony look on his face. Ma-Ti and Wheeler were by the door and Kwame was perched on the counter top.

"Where is Gi?" Kwame asked, peering towards the doorway as if expecting her to arrive at any moment.

"No idea," Ma-Ti said. "She and Tom got into the vodka last night, apparently."

"God." Kwame rolled his eyes, seemingly unhappy but he quickly moved past it. "Rings?"

"Yep."

"All right," he said. He leaned forward. "Is everyone all right with the decision to travel in three groups?"

"Makes sense," Wheeler replied. "Go together in a group this large, we may as well have a target on our backs."

Kwame nodded. "At the end of the day, Blight needs Linka to transfer her element back to Cap, but once he's back in the earth she'll need to locate the rest of us anyway to combine our powers. If we encounter trouble along the way, I want to make that job as hard as possible. If we split up, we'll be harder to find."

Linka nodded. "Who is going with who?"

Kwame sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I have two teams heading straight to Nevada — to Blight's compound. Ma-Ti will go with the first team. Gi and Bleak with the second —"

"I'm not losin' sight of this one," Bleak interrupted, gesturing towards Linka and clearly unhappy with this course of action. "How do I know you wont —"

"You have to go through the portal regardless, Bleak," Kwame reminded him. "If you remain here, this time line wont survive. We cannot afford not to send you through."

Bleak blew a frustrated breath outwards. "Then why are two teams heading to Nevada? What happened to finding the Blue guy?"

"That will be the third team's responsibility. Linka, Wheeler and I will head out with the third team and find Cap. We will then rendezvous with you in Nevada."

"And what if Blight captures you all?"

"We have not physically seen Blight during all this time. Our Linka would have been the last to see her in person… unfortunately" He gave her a tight smile. "Blight uses others to do her dirty work. We believe Cap is here in LA, but our sources tell us Blight herself has already moved out to Nevada. She knows we have no choice but to seek out the time travel equipment. I think the real showdown will happen there."

"Do we know where to go?" Ma-Ti asked. "I do not wish to be wandering lost around the desert."

"Linka has been there. She has given our group leaders the compound's rough location on a map."

"Seems legit," Wheeler muttered. "I gotta call home before we leave. May not get another opportunity."

He straightened and headed for the door before pausing. Hovering, suddenly uncertain. He turned and beckoned towards Linka. "You comin'?"

She was up and on her feet before he'd even finished the sentence, eager to hear their little voices now that she knew the truth. They headed for the door and nearly bumped into Gi as she tore inside the room, out of breath and looking dishevelled. She held out her hand; bent over and regaining her composure.

"Thought you'd… sorry… slept in," she puffed, placing her hands on her knees in an effort to regulate her breathing.

"Nice of you to join us," Kwame muttered. "Ten minutes, people."

Linka gave her a backwards glance as she followed Wheeler into the corridor. Gi stared at them with wide eyes as they left, evidently surprised to see them together. A slight pause, then Gi's voice was sharp and clear as it echoed behind their retreating figures.

"What's my photo album doing here?"


	27. Chapter 27

_"Wind!"_

_Linka watches with an almost maniacal sense of glee as Hoggish Greedly's latest venture rises into the air in an impressive vortex. The man is bellowing with rage — shaking his meaty fist as his multi-million dollar investment breaks apart._

_The villagers are cheering. Built on the border of India and Bangladesh, the fish and meat-processing plant has been leaking byproducts into the River Ganges for six months now, causing a chain reaction of sickness and destruction downstream._

_"Where do you want it?" she calls out over the steady hum of the whirlwind whipping around above her head._

_Kwame raises his hand to his eyes. "Can you set it down in a neat pile over there?"_

_"A neat pile?" she queries, scarcely believing what she was hearing. "What are you —"_

_"Stack the aluminium?"_

_"What?"_

_Kwame grins. "Linka, I am joking. Just set it down on the —"_

_"What?"_

_The whirlwind drowns out Kwame's voice and he jabs his finger at the spinning factory, then in the direction of the car park._

_"Oh."_

_She makes sure the employees are clear before she sets it down gently. The earth trembles nonetheless as the structure makes contact with the ground. She stumbles slightly, hands out in an effort to balance herself._

_"Nice work," Kwame says, now by her side and admiring her handiwork._

_"Spasiba," she replies breathlessly._

_He grins. "In all honesty, you probably could have disassembled and stacked it. The control you have these days is nothing short of impressive."_

_She stares at him, feeling a deep sense of pride. Compliments from Kwame are few and far between. Over the past few years, he has developed into a man of few words._

_"Ah, thank you."_

_She sighs, watching on from a distance as Greedly's portly frame attempts to evade the authorities. The pair drop down to the ground, crossing their legs beneath them — amused and rather entertained by the cat-and-mouse chase unfolding. They've done the bulk of the work and the local constabulary are determined to enter Greedly into custody._

_A cool breeze wafts past and she sways slightly, struggling to maintain her composure in the oppressive heat. The flurry of air goes a long way towards cooling the sweat beading around her neck and between her breasts._

_She wipes her forehead and leans back. Gi is by the waters edge doing her best to filter the trash and pollutants mixed into the river. Ma-Ti is talking to a uniformed officer — she assumes the man in charge of the local command. She has no idea where the Yankee is._

_"How is your course going?"_

_"Good," she replies, reaching for her water bottle and taking a swig. "I have completed three units. Two more units to go."_

_A beat passes. "Linka, how are you finding the time?"_

_"Oh, I study at night."_

_Kwame sits quietly, contemplating her words. "I know it is a passion of yours… but with everything going on, I just worry —"_

_"Kwame, I am fine," she insists. She pushes her hair off her face, squinting as she turns to face him. "Really. I am fine. The course is online. I have access to tutors and I can study and submit assignments from wherever we are."_

_"Yes, but we have been incredibly busy these past few months. I cannot remember what it feels like to have a day off —"_

_"I know, Kwame, but —"_

_"I am just concerned that with eco-missions and our other little technological complication, that perhaps you are taking on too much."_

_"I have no choice but to enter university this way. I was unable to complete my secondary certificate of schooling due to… well…" She trails off, peering down at her ring._

_"You are not seriously contemplating a university degree right now? Linka, we are working seventy hour weeks at present!"_

_"No, not at this point, Kwame. I just wish to finish my schooling, as it is essential to my ongoing study when we move on. We will not be doing this forever." She glances up, playing with the curls at the end of her hair._

_"I just worry that —"_

_"I will not return to Russia after all my work here, only to be known as someone's wife, Kwame. I do not wish to be a homemaker — relying on my husband's good will like my childhood friends. I want something more for myself."_

_"So no wedding in your future, Linka?" He looks surprised. "No thoughts of a family of your own?"_

_She sighs. "I never said that. I do think about it. I simply do not wish to be defined by what my culture expects of me."_

_He watches her quietly. She knows he is resigning himself to the fact that there is no way she will reconsider. Her chin is set and her eyes are determined._

_"All right. So long as you are taking care of yourself." Kwame says softly. "Speaking of technology, how did the latest meeting go with —?"_

_"My government friends?"_

_"Yes."_

_"All right, I guess." She leans forward, smiling. Wheeler has finally surfaced. He stands close to the river, arms folded and grinning as he watches Greedly lurch about, dodging the officers. Clearly entertained. "I was correct. They have discovered —"_

_"SAIP?"_

_Linka nods. "They do not take kindly to mad scientists hacking their mainframes, it would seem."_

_"Hmm." Kwame was quiet for a moment. Pondering things over. "Is there a plan?"_

_"They wish for me to consult with them. Help to develop a counter-attack since I am familiar with MAL's programming."_

_Kwame considered her words. "Just be careful. They may have their own agenda."_

_The thought had crossed her mind. "I know."_

_Greedly appears again in the distance. For an obese man in his forties, he's doing a superb job of staying clear of the authorities. Kwame pushes himself to his feet; pointing his ring towards Greedly's lumbering legs._

_"Earth!"_

_Greedly trips and falls heavily. Five officers descend but he's back on his feet again and running. Kwame makes a grunt of annoyance and starts moving, breaking into a jog as he heads towards the almost comedic display of ineptitude._

_Another breeze floats by. Her hair flutters about her face and she takes a rare moment to enjoy some down time. Collect her thoughts._

_Kwame was right, though. Even she had to admit, she was taking on a lot. Back-to-back eco-missions. Two to three hours of study per night over the weekdays. Managing to squeeze in flights to the US to meet with shadowy figures in nondescript board rooms who were pretending to be anything other than what they were — the CIA._

_She had met with them twice now. They had demanded full disclosure of what she knew, but expected complete confidentiality. They were spooked by the software. Very concerned, but the situation was made worse by the fact that their own computer 'expert' resented the fact that they had called her in to begin with._

_He had dismissed her abilities and argued with every observation she had made. Shot down her opinions — threatened by her youth, appearance and gender. Brushing her off as just a barbie doll who didn't know what she was talking about._

_She wanted to prove them wrong — it was a problem she encountered a lot. Perhaps subconsciously, this was part of the reason she had started formal study again._

_But truth be told, she was worried. Worried that the bumbling CIA agents would do something rash, with little regard for the consequences._

_Blight wasn't a woman to meddle with._

_Linka hears a bellow. She glances up, watching as the officers finally catch up with Greedly. They've surrounded him —five on one — and he's still putting up a fight. Kwame is there too, trying to placate him. Arms out, palms flat in an effort to calm him down._

_Greedly punches two officers to the ground and Linka sees the flash of silver glinting in the sun. The rest happens so quickly, she barely has time to register it. A scream of rage and suddenly Kwame is no longer standing, but on the ground. Her vision is restricted by the officers surging around the pair and she cranes her neck._

_Her mouth drops open. The distance is hampering her ability to understand what is happening but her heart is suddenly thumping in her chest._

_Something is wrong._

_A red beam issues from close by and Linka jumps to her feet, aware that the fire ring has been used. Wheeler is no longer by the river. He is running full pelt towards the melee. He launches himself and crash-tackles Greedly to the ground, landing a heavy punch to Greedly's face and knocking him out cold._

_And then she's running too. Her hair whips around her face wildly and as the scene comes into view, small sobs escape from her lips. The knife lays discarded nearby, still glowing red courtesy of Wheeler's intervention._

_She drops to her knees and skids along the dirt, landing beside Kwame's trembling body. Reaching forward with shaky hands, she accepts the offers of clothing and quickly applies pressure to his face, screaming at the onlookers to call an ambulance._

_Linka's face is pale but Kwame's is rapidly losing color. He's going into shock. Her hands are now red; thick with blood. It runs between her fingers and drips onto the dusty ground and she gazes upwards, blinking back tears and struggling to hold herself together._

* * *

"But why? You didn't even discuss it with —"

"It is madness to travel together, Gi. You know that. We will be sitting ducks."

"But why can't Wheeler swap with me?"

A groan. "You know why."

Linka dropped her bag to the ground as Gi continued protesting. They had climbed to the top and were currently in the substation, waiting to go. Ma-Ti's team had already departed but the second team were delayed due to the argument unfolding.

Gi continued to beg and plead, waving her arms around and beseeching Kwame to reconsider. He wasn't budging.

"I don't understand why —"

"Gi, I am not having this conversation with you. You know the background. You are not swapping with —"

"He had six years with her!" she shrieked, wiping away tears. "Six years! I lost her and I never got her back."

"He lost her too, Gi," he replied, trying to keep his voice down since Wheeler had ascended — having swung his legs over the manhole cover. He was now standing beside Linka, watching Gi warily. "That is enough."

"Yeah, he lost her," she wept bitterly. "He lost her, all right."

Wheeler tensed up and Linka reached for him without thinking, placing a warning hand on his back. Silently willing him not to explode.

Suddenly tearful, Linka hurried forward and gripped Gi's shoulders, turning and guiding her away from the curious onlookers. She steered her towards a dark corner and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly and whispering quiet words of comfort into her ear until the tears subsided.

* * *

"Gi, man. What the hell?"

Kwame shook his head. "It is a long story."

"She's off the chart."

"She has struggled," Kwame admitted. He shook his head, stabbing the ground with his stick as he led the way through the city. "I have done everything I can. I am not sure what else we can do for her."

"Shrink'd be a good start," Wheeler muttered.

"In case you haven't noticed, psychiatrists are in short supply," he said. "In all honesty, I am losing my patience with her."

"She is suffering from depression, Kwame," Linka said sharply, frustrated with his lack of empathy. "Maybe some post traumatic issues. She needs support."

She sighed, glancing back at the members of their team trailing along behind them. There were eight of them in total. Meant to be nine, but Grace had opted to travel with Gi instead, slinging an arm across Gi's shoulders as their team had departed.

Linka had been extraordinarily grateful for that small act of kindness.

"I don't even recognise her any more," Wheeler said. He passed his hand over the crumbling brickwork. "Completely different person."

"With the exception of Ma-Ti, you are all different!" Linka exclaimed. She threw her hands in the air, overwhelmed by the urge to smack some sense into them. "Kwame, you have turned into an… an army general. A drill sergeant. Bossing everyone around and bonking orders at everybody…"

A smirk appeared on Wheeler's face. "Barkin'."

"What?"

" _Barkin_ ' orders, you dope."

She shoved him. "Do not get me started on you, mister cranky-pants."

"Fair enough." He smiled again and Linka beamed at him, delighted to see shadows of his former self returning.

Linka sighed, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. Regardless of the circumstances, she felt oddly at peace. She was sleeping better and — apart from some weird dreams — she felt relaxed and rested.

She was only able to remember snippets of the dreams, really. Minor, obscure details that flashed within her mind upon waking. They were unusual — almost like a black-and-white old film reel flickering in the background of her subconscious.

The sidewalk was pock-marked and damaged, and she stepped carefully around the roughened concrete, before turning to Kwame. "How long will it take to get there?"

"Should be there in a few days."

"How do you tell the time here?" she wondered aloud.

Kwame pointed upward. "Position of the sun. Most days it is pretty hard to see, but since the dust has settled, we have more light filtering through."

"Wind has definitely settled down," Wheeler agreed, glancing at Linka.

A thought occurred to her. "Where is my ring?"

"On your finger?" Kwame replied with a frown, not understanding her question.

She shook her head. " _Nyet_ , my future self's ring. Was I buried with it?"

"No," Wheeler said. He paused, and she slowed to a stop as he reached under the collar of his sweater, pulling a thin chain out. "It's here."

Stepping forward, she grasped the ring between her fingers; barely noticing that the others had passed them now. Gold band with a light blue stone. Three wavy lines. Identical to the ring currently sitting on her own finger.

The chain jiggled and she moved closer, fascinated by the inter-dimensional nature of what she was seeing. She felt his breath on her forehead and it was then that she finally noticed that he had tensed up again. Her close proximity was causing him discomfort — she had simply been too distracted to notice.

"Sorry," she whispered, letting the ring drop back against his chest. She stepped back, embarrassed, but he tugged gently on her hair to let her know it wasn't a problem. They fell into step together, trailing behind the others and walking in a companionable silence.

* * *

"Read 'em and weep."

Linka groaned as Wheeler produced a ' Draw Four' card. She huffed, taking four cards from the pile before leaning back against the concrete pylon.

Sheltered under an overpass with only a small fire for light and warmth, the stars twinkled down around them. Linka tugged her blanket tightly around her shoulders, holding her cards in her hands and eying the other players with amusement.

The Uno game was getting rather rowdy. Kwame had warned them twice now to keep the noise down, attempting to catch some sleep and not wishing to draw attention to themselves under cover of darkness.

There were four of them playing. Herself and Wheeler, along with a young guy of about eighteen and a middle-aged man Wheeler seemed to already know — Sam. Everyone else was either asleep or watching the game from the shadows.

She took a moment to observe him quietly; taking in the way the firelight glanced across his features. His hair was a shade lighter than she remembered, tousled over his forehead and peeking out from beneath the baseball cap.

She was unused to seeing him with facial hair. The light stubble over his face looked almost gold from where she was sitting. She glanced downwards — her eyes following the motion of his hands as they shuffled the pack, ready to start a new game.

Gentle, measured movements, knuckles flexing as he conversed with Sam. Wheeler grinned at something Sam said, and she smiled, aware that his defences were beginning to break down.

She tossed her cards into the centre and yawned, repositioning herself.

"We playin' again?" Sam asked and Wheeler shook his head, glancing at Kwame who was out cold.

"Nah. K-Man will tear my hide if we wake him."

"Want me to take first watch?" the young guy — Dan — asked, but Wheeler shook his head

"I'm good," Wheeler replied. "Go catch some Z's."

The pair nodded, bidding them goodnight as they grabbed their bags and departed, searching for a spot to rest for the night.

Linka laid herself down, using her bag as a pillow. Eyes heavy, she watched Wheeler walk over to the fire; throwing dirt over the pit to extinguish the embers. He made his way back, relying on the moonlight to guide his way. He swore under his breath and Linka assumed he'd tripped or stumbled in the darkness. Linka couldn't help but giggle.

"Shut up, Ruskii."

She grinned, hearing shuffling noises. Wheeler was unrolling his sleeping bag a few feet away.

"The last Eco-Mission I had involved us camping," she said quietly.

"Uh huh," he answered. "Bet it wasn't as back-to-basics as this."

" _Nyet_ ," she said. She could just make out the broad outline of his body through the gloom. "At least we had shelter."

"Mmm. Was that Brazil?"

" _Nyet_. Alaska."

"Oh," he said. "I think I remember."

"You climbed into our tent," she said with a smile. "Kwame was snoring too loudly. You could not sleep."

She heard him chuckle. "You believed that?"

"You were cold?"

"Nah," he said quietly. "Probably just wanted an excuse to be close to ya."

"Oh," she whispered, not quite sure how to respond to that. She changed the subject. "Where do you live, Yankee? Kwame said you are not underground?"

"Delaware," he said. "There's about 7 groups of us livin' on a large property. Safety in numbers."

She rolled onto her stomach, propping herself on her elbows — interested in getting a glimpse into his life.

"Is it safe where you are?"

"A lot safer than here," he said. "We've had three raids over the years. People tryin' to steal our supplies. We're pretty good at beatin' em down, though."

"You live in a house?"

"Yeah. Little farm house with another family. We've converted the sheds and barns nearby. The rest of 'em live there, including Mishka and Elena."

"Oh," she replied. "Elena is his wife?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Oh." Linka propped her chin in her hands. Her eyes were starting to acclimatise to the darkness courtesy of the full moon. She watched as Wheeler rolled onto his back, placing his hands behind his head. "What is she like?"

"She's great," he said. "She's British. They met just before you passed. In all honesty, I don't know what I woulda done without her."

"Does Mishka or the children know I am here?" She had listened in on last night's call home but had stayed silent, not wanting to frighten the children or complicate matters. Just happy to be sitting beside him.

"No," he said.

"What did you tell them?"

She heard him sigh heavily. "Told 'em I had to go do somethin' for Mommy."

"I am sorry," she whispered, feeling guilty. "I am asking a lot of questions."

"You're missin' eleven years of answers," he said after a moment. She could tell he was tired.

She rubbed her face and yawned again. "That is true."

"Get some sleep, Lin," he said. "You warm enough?"

She briefly considered telling him she was cold. Eager for an arm wrapped around her, or those sneaky cuddles like in times before — the affectionate gestures she had taken for granted. But it was selfish of her to expect them now. She could see he was trying so hard not to bury his head in the sand and she appreciated the effort.

"I am fine," she replied. "Good night, Yankee."

"G'night."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for themes of horror and implied violence.

_The restaurant is lovely. A quaint, dimly-lit little place on the outskirts of town. Crisp, white tablecloths and a tea-light candle flickering away within a glass jar. The entrees are placed on the table and they dig in._

_Linka smiles shyly, taking a delicate bite out of her garlic bread as her dinner partner chats away. He's an accountant from Washington. Her date can't seem to take his eyes off her. Brushing crumbs from the corners of her mouth, the memory of their first meeting distracts her from the incessant chatter about tax credits and financial investments._

_She had run into him several times before now, always at the same time and place — a coffee cart located in the foyer of that nondescript building that was absolutely, definitely not being utilised by the CIA._

_Even though it was._

_That coffee cart soon became her temporary safe haven; desperate to escape the monotony of the meetings, the computer screens. The sneers levelled at her by the chief computer analyst. Wanting to escape the feeling that she was butting her head against a brick wall._

_He worked across the street — an investment company that had two or three surnames linked together in an effort to make the company sound more impressive than what they probably were. Even better was the fact that he didn't recognise her._

_Today, on her fifth visit to Washington (and the third time she had bumped into Luke) he had asked her out on the spot, proposing an early dinner._

_Glancing back towards the lifts, the usual thoughts entered her mind._

_I do not have time for this._

_I just want to go home._

_It isn't going to work._

_And the unexpected admission that trumped all the others: that she'd rather be curled up on the couch next to Wheeler tonight watching a scary movie, pretending not to enjoy his fingers playing with her hair._

_She'd surprised herself by accepting, tying things up in the offices upstairs and meeting Luke in the foyer ten minutes later._

_He's still talking, asking about her day. She considers telling him the truth — that she spent the morning in Mexico dealing with a shipment of dead, native birds, and her afternoon getting into a heated verbal screaming-match with that ublyudok of a computer analyst._

_That she's stressed, burnt-out, frustrated, angry, over-tired — and perhaps even a little lonely._

_But she doesn't tell him any of that. She says her day was fine, thank you for asking. How was yours?_

_He's a lovely man. Tall and thin with glasses. Very intelligent and well spoken. Does all the right things. Opens doors for her. Listens attentively. Smiles a lot. Makes eye contact. He's very kind and gentle in his mannerisms._

_But she's not attracted to him._

_Not in the least._

_The main meals arrive and she eats slowly, glancing around the restaurant. A few young families are present. An older couple in the corner eat their dinner in silence, and a pair of lovebirds are seated three tables away from their own. She watches them with a small pang of jealousy as the young man leans in and kisses his partner._

_Feeling frustrated that despite the numerous come-ons and offers she's had over the years — she has a limited basis for comparison when it comes to matters of a sexual nature._

_Two or three dates here or there. A brief fling with a rugged-looking park ranger last year who she'd kept everyone in the dark about — including Gi. The experience had left her wondering what all the fuss was about. She'd approached the act itself almost like a science experiment. Detached and distant._

_For the most part though, she's kept herself emotionally unavailable to men. Her reasoning was mostly determined by her work and her circumstances, but also partly self-inflicted. By choice — until now, that is._

_She's starting to grow weary of it._

_Luke is asking her how the food is, and she replies that it's delicious. His gaze subtly drops down to her cleavage, before sweeping back up to her face again. She chews her pasta slowly, passing her arms across her chest in an effort to conceal the soft swell of her breasts, briefly wondering what it is about that area that fascinates men no end._

_They discuss some political and world events for another hour before ordering coffees. He really is a sweet man, but she doesn't have that sense of nervous butterflies. The heat rising when he smiles, or the tingling sensation when his hand brushes hers._

_She doesn't find herself wheezing with laughter at something horrendously inappropriate that he's said._

_She can't imagine passing out next to him in the middle of a movie. Waking up — disorientated — with her hair styled in a wild and colourful assortment of fourteen plaits and piggy-tails, sticking out in all directions._

_She's unsure if he would be so bold as to pull her into his lap and wrap his arms around her waist on public transport, supposedly due to a lack of available seats._

_She doubts he would put his life on the line for her time and time again._

_Luke raises his hand, gesturing for the cheque. She continues sipping her coffee and when the bill arrives, she offers to pay her half but he refuses._

_They grab their coats and he leads her out into the street. He says he lives down the road. Would she like him to call her a cab from there?_

_"Da," she replies. "All right."_

_They walk for a while, making small conversation. He's still glancing at her every now and then, and she assumes he's sizing her up. Wondering what she looks like under her black woollen dress._

_He stops outside of an older-style stone facade, a set of four apartments. They climb the stairs before reaching the door. She's distracted, peering at the surnames on the buzzer panel as the hair she had so carefully straightened earlier that morning blows about her face._

_He reaches forward and tilts her chin upwards. She blinks, about to say something but he closes the distance between them._

_It's all a bit awkward. She stands stiffly, pressed against the door frame as his mouth bears down on hers. He grips her hips and pulls her closer towards him._

_"Wanna come up for a drink?"_

_His voice is full of cautious optimism. He kisses her again, and she places her palms against his chest before stepping back nervously._

_"I really should go," she whispers, as his hand moves higher, resting just under the curve of her breast. "It will take me a while to get back."_

_"Can I see you again?"_

_She doesn't want to disappoint him so she nods, intending on letting work and distance assist her in gradually letting things go._

_She makes it back to the Geo-Cruiser and sets the coordinates of the short-term apartment they're staying in. Running on auto-pilot not just in terms of the aircraft, but in a metaphorical sense as well._

_Settling back into the pilots seat, she stares out into the gloom and light rain, feeling vaguely unsettled. The CIA visits are taking a toll on her, not to mention Kwame's incident several months prior. It is the closest any of them have come to death and it was a wake-up call, highlighting just how dangerous their job is becoming._

_The next few hours are a blur. She lands on the rooftop and hurries towards the fire-exit, accessing the apartment complex. The concrete staircase holds the faint scent of urine and she quickens her pace, holding her breath until she reaches her floor._

_The front door looms towards the end of the corridor and she's never been so happy to see anything in her life._

_She fumbles in her bag for the key and unlocks the door, stepping inside as quietly as possible, taking a moment to collect her thoughts._

_"Long-ass meetin'?"_

_She looks up, surprised. Wheeler is sprawled out on the sofa in front of the television. His voice is husky and she knows she's woken him in spite of how quietly she tried to enter. He's always the first to offer to sleep on the couch in case there aren't enough bedrooms to share._

_"Ugh," she says, closing the door behind her. "Do not even ask."_

_"Still givin' you a hard time?"_

_"I feel like I am just there to look pretty," she complains, the frustration evident in her voice. "They are not listening to me."_

_"Walk in naked next time," he suggests with a sleepy grin. "That should get their attention."_

_"Neposlushnyy mal'chik," she chastises but she can't help but laugh. Linka tosses her handbag on the other armchair and sinks to the floor in front of him, feeling guilty about waking him. "You are a degenerate."_

_"Yeah," he replies tiredly. He rolls over, facing her and a bright variety of candy wrappers tumble to the floor. He pulls the quilt further over his shoulders. Dishevelled red hair peeks out from under the fabric and she resists the urge to run her fingers through it._

_She glances at the closed door to the first bedroom, knowing Gi is already asleep within. She's tired — bone weary in fact — but her mind is still racing with the events of the day._

_She removes her coat and boots, followed by a jaunty one-legged hop as she struggles with her stockings._

_"Move over," she says softly. Wheeler raises his eyebrows, unaccustomed to Linka initiating contact. Usually it's him. He says nothing though, scooting over to allow her room. He raises the quilt and she climbs in beneath it, settling herself against him with a tired sigh — enjoying his warmth and the firm line of his body pressed up against her spine._

_"Bad day?"_

_"Bad year," she says, barely audible. She rolls over and burrows against his chest, feeling his arms wrap around her body, holding her close. "How is Kwame today?"_

_"Pissed."_

_The physical scars are healing but the mental scars remain. Kwame is much quieter now. Morose. Prone to angry outbursts. Two plastic surgeries have done little to improve the knife wound._

_She closes her eyes. The subtle aroma of soap is present on Wheeler's skin and his breath is warm and steady on her forehead. His fingers are gently scratching back and forth along her lower back. Even through the fabric, it feels so good and she's tempted to tell him so._

_She considers telling Wheeler about her date. Needing to express her complicated thought-processes, but it's two in the morning and she's warm and comfortable and relaxed._

_She falls asleep in his arms._

* * *

Bright blue sky peeked out from beneath the low cloud cover as she opened her eyes. It was the first time she'd actually seen the sky since she arrived, due to the constant haze that seemed to permeate the atmosphere here.

Linka stretched; rolling over onto her side and wincing as her body struggled to deal with the simple movement. The hard ground had made a poor mattress last night, and her muscles and joints were screaming.

Sam and Dan were also sitting up in their sleeping bags, staring upwards. They seemed overjoyed by the small hints of blue breaking through and Linka marvelled that something so simple — something she had always taken for granted — could evoke so much joy.

Settling her cheek against her arm, she spotted a piece of glossy paper wedged between the ground and her bag. Frowning, she rolled over onto her stomach, fingers outstretched in an effort to grab hold of it.

Her eyes lit up. She grinned, delighted at gaining another precious glimpse into the life she had apparently lived with Wheeler.

Linka looked around, breathless as she scanned the surroundings for Wheeler. She spotted Kwame straight away, deep in conversation with members of the team. A few people were in various stages of getting ready for the day ahead, but the Yankee was nowhere in sight.

Settling her gaze back on the photograph again, Linka traced a finger over her future self's smiling face.

She assumed the photo must have been taken somewhere in Asia — perhaps Thailand or Bali judging by the beach and frivolity featured in the background.

They were sitting in plastic chairs, with their feet submerged in tanks. Small fish were congregating around their toes and Wheeler's arm was firmly wrapped around her shoulders, as if to hold her in place. They both appeared to be in hysterics.

This Linka's eyes were closed and her expression was halfway between a laugh and a scream. One of her hands held her white sundress away from the water: the other was gripping Wheeler's thigh so hard that she could practically see the fingernail indents in his skin.

Her own future hair was still dark (although thankfully not as dark as Gi's initial dye-job), however Wheeler's hair had lightened significantly.

_He went blonde._

Linka sat up, grinning happily as she clutched the photo tightly.

"Here," a deep voice said from close behind her. Kwame dropped a homemade bar of something oat-based into her lap. "Breakfast. Trissa made them for the trip."

" _Spasiba_ ," she said, waving the photograph in his direction. "Look!"

He took the photo and gave it a once-over. Chuckling, he passed it back to her with a wink. "Some things never change."

She nodded, grinning. Gathering her things together, Linka began to pack up.

* * *

They were back on the highway again, treading the broken asphalt and weaving their way through the abandoned cars lying strewn throughout. The others were spread out over the course of several hundred feet but Linka was sticking to Wheeler like glue, unwilling to let him out of her sight.

She bobbed along beside him, sneaking glances when his attention was elsewhere. It was strange to say the least, seeing him eleven years older and knowing his background now. Knowing the main events from his life — but it was the smaller details she was now desperate to get a grasp on.

His joy for life and impulsive streak had been replaced with a sense of cautious apprehension. But the Wheeler she knew was still in there. She was delighted to catch glimpses of his cheeky sense of humour shining through every now and then.

On the increasing occasions when he smiled, the corners of his eyes would crinkle. She would find herself waiting with bated breath, hoping for a smart-ass comment or a theatrical gesture that — in her experience — usually followed.

But patience was supposedly a virtue. She was willing to wait, peppering him with incessant questions instead. Pulling the photo from her pocket, Linka waved it in front of Wheeler.

"You changed your hair?"

"Yeah. Had no choice. Layin' low was kinda difficult with my natural colour."

"It suited you."

"You did an all-right job, actually," he commented, glancing at her. "Peroxide and lemon juice. Fucked up the hotel room towels, though."

"Oh," she said. "Where was the photo taken?"

"Thailand, I think," he answered. "Maybe Phuket?"

"We travelled a lot?"

"Yeah. Spent a few months island hoppin'. Just chillin' out. Hadn't planned to, but the shit hit the proverbial fan and we had to improvise."

"What happened?"

"Things got pretty hairy after we left the others," he said. "We spent the first two weeks on the run."

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely curious. "On the run? I thought the — whatever they were — relocated us?"

"CIA?" A dark look passed over Wheeler's face. "They were meant to. Relocation never happened."

She stared at him, stumbling on a stray rock due to her moment of distraction. Wheeler was quick to haul her back up again.

"What happened?"

He sighed. "It's ancient history, Lin. It's not your future now, anyway. Don't have to worry 'bout it."

"It  _does_  matter, Wheeler," she said sternly. "I still want to know."

"That's my point — you don't  _need_  to know. Why drag it all up? Your future has already been re-written. Does it really matter?"

" _Da_."

"You're not gonna stop, are ya?" he muttered. "Still a pain in my ass, girl."

" _Da,_ " she replied, crossing her arms. Resolute. "You know me. I am like a dog with a bone."

He chuckled. "Freakin' rottweiler."

"I am a poodle with a stubborn streak." She smiled, reaching out and shoving him good naturedly. "You might as well start at the beginning, Yankee."

He rolled his eyes, settling his gaze on the road ahead. "We said our goodbyes to the others. CIA tossed us into a car to Washington. Had to wait in a shitty hotel room for our new paperwork and identities, then the plan was to put us on a plane. Didn't get that far, though. We barely survived the first 48 hours."

"WHAT?" she exclaimed, clutching his arm tightly. "Oh my God. What happened?"

"Someone gave up your location. Blight must have paid off one of the analysts. Bastard sold us out."

She rubbed a hand over her mouth, still reeling with shock. "How did you find out?"

"I'd gone downstairs to grab a coffee. Elevator doors open and there's fuckin' Kroi and about five of Plunder's asshole employees on the other side of the foyer. Just hangin' at the reception desk. They're ringin' the room and about to head up."

"Oh my God," she breathed.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Hightailed it back upstairs and dragged you the hell out of there. We literally had nothin' but the clothes on our backs. Our new ID's had been compromised, so we couldn't leave the country without leavin' a trail. We were on our own."

"I cannot believe…"

"Yeah. I had to throw a punch at the analyst guy since he wasn't gonna let us leave. Tore my sutures in the process. Bleedin' everywhere. You were freakin' out. Complete fuckin' mess."

"Sutures?" she said, tripping again and grabbing his arm to help steady herself. "What do you mean?"

"I'd been shot a few weeks prior to all this goin' down," he explained. Wheeler tapped his finger below his collar bone. "Two 44 caliber bullets. Made a mess. Plunder."

Her conversation with Kwame on the first night came floating back to her. She walked in silence for a moment, mulling things over. "I cannot believe…" she whispered. "What happened next?"

"Managed to get my hands on a couple of fake passports. I knew a guy who knew a guy… and that guy knew another guy."

"Why does that not surprise me, Yankee?" she said, shaking her head. "We made it out, though?"

"Yeah. Once we got outta the US, things got easier. South to Mexico. Spent a few weeks bummin' around the Bahamas, then island hopped around Greece for a few months. By the time we hit Thailand you were already pregnant. You woulda been a couple of months in that photo."

"Wow," Linka murmured. She settled her eyes on the road ahead, considering his words. "I had assumed — before I knew about us — that I had gone into hiding on my own. I had… I had a picture in my head, I guess. I thought I must have been alone and frightened. Gi showed me a photograph while we were in the Metro city. I guess it confirmed this to me."

"What photo?"

"Um… a photograph of all of us. Gi said it was taken right before I left." She shivered, remembering her own forlorn face pressed up against Wheeler's. "We were all together on a couch. I looked like one of the zombies in your horror movies."

"Was it taken the morning the trench-coat mafia picked us up?"

"I guess so," she said. "I looked terrible."

"You woulda been tired," Wheeler said, smiling at the memory. "Some idiot had kept you up all night."

"Oh," she said, her eyes wide at the unspoken inference. "We were… together?"

Wheeler smirked. "We sure as hell weren't playin' UNO."

"Okay." She nodded, feeling that familiar heat creeping back into her cheeks. Feeling the urge to stop the conversation in its tracks. "All right.  _Spasiba._  My curiosity has been —"

"You want details on how many times I nailed you that night? How many positions? How loud you —"

NO!" she shrieked, covering her ears and turning bright red with embarrassment. She shook her head vehemently. " _Nyet_. That is quite fine, Yankee."

"Only had 75% use of my right arm at the time, but I made it count," he mused. "You certainly had no complaints."

"Oh God, Wheeler!" she cried, holding her hands outwards. "Really, I do not need to —"

"You sure?" he teased, amused at her obvious discomfort. "Ten minutes ago you were drilling me for more information."

"That is fine," she croaked, completely flustered now. "I do not need those details, Yankee."

"All right," he replied, shrugging with an air of nonchalance. He pulled out one of Trissa's home made oat-bar concoctions from his pocket, munching on it and making a face of disgust. "Don't say I didn't offer."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she said under her breath, giving him the side eye.

"Right," he said. He readjusted his backpack and pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. He nodded towards Kwame who had stopped up ahead — standing and staring at something in the distance. "I'm gonna go ask why the boss would marry someone who makes breakfast bars that taste like compressed cardboard."

"Wheeler!" she hissed, caught between a gasp and a giggle. He strode away, shoulders squared and Linka hurried to follow him. "Do not even think about…"

Her voice trailed away to nothing as they approached the former Earth Planeteer. Kwame was still frozen to the same spot: standing tense and alert further up the road. Sam and Dan had also stopped, pointing to something ahead and talking quietly to one another.

Linka's mouth dropped open as Dan suddenly slapped a hand to his mouth and lurched to the side of the road. Doubled over in the long grass, it didn't take much to know that he was emptying the contents of his stomach.

"Wait," Wheeler said, the apprehension evident in his voice. The scene ahead hadn't escaped his attention either. He held his hand up and used the other to drop his backpack to the ground. "Wait here a moment."

He jogged away and Linka crossed her arms, peering in the direction of the others. She could see a highway sign with a large cross painted roughly over the surface of it, in tones of brown or red. In all honesty, she couldn't tell the exact colour.

The air shimmered and she shifted slightly, becoming frustrated. The highway was becoming more densely populated with surrounding structures and the buildings were not as heavily damaged here.

Linka craned her neck, raising her hands in bewilderment as Wheeler glanced back at her.

"What?" she called out as the final three members of the team caught up to her, out of breath and watching on in confusion. "What is going —"

"Just wait there," Wheeler called back.

Linka's eyes narrowed. Wheeler's command was like waving a red flag to a bull.

She dropped her bag and jogged quietly towards them. The sign came closer into focus and she stumbled slightly, her heart in her mouth. A cold chill descended despite the warm day.

She watched Kwame turn around, dropping into a crouching position. His head was lowered. A piece of tattered paper was clutched tightly in his hands and he looked utterly bereft, barely noticing Linka approach. His face was ashen and she diverted her gaze back to the sign.

 _Oh God. It is not paint,_ she thought, hysteria mounting.  _It is definitely not paint._

Linka ground to a halt as the body came into view.

Four limbs stretched and bound to the corresponding corners of the metal surface. Weathered and dried-out skin, lips shrunk back from the gums and grinning at them. Eyes closed and a gaping hole where the intestines should have been.

Linka clapped a hand to her mouth, unable to drag her gaze from him… her… it… The current condition meant she couldn't even distinguish gender.

Her breathing quickened as she spotted the noose drawn tightly around the body's neck. Linka stumbled backwards with a sob, spotting more signs further in the distance, each with the grotesque cross symbol draped over them.

More bodies.

She jumped, trembling as a pair of firm hands gripped her shoulders, steering her away from the highway. Away from the sightless, dead eyes that seemed to follow her regardless of what direction she paced.

"I think we need to get off the fuckin' road, people," Wheeler called out, guiding Linka between the barriers and towards an embankment. "We're sittin' ducks out here. I'm not waitin' for 'em to jump us."

The others followed. They staggered down and headed towards the abandoned car yard by the side of the highway. Linka felt Wheeler's arm slip around her shoulders and she leaned in instinctively, grateful for the contact.

"I knew her," Kwame voiced quietly from beside her. He shook his head and strode ahead, lost in thought. "She'd gone with three others. Gathering information for us. Never made it home."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult themes. Sexual content and violence. May be triggering for some readers.

_The sun has set._

_Dusk has settled and the farm is quiet. The employees have headed home for the day but a few stragglers remain. Her view from the barn is restricted, but the silo is just visible in the back corner of the property._

_She knows she shouldn't be here alone._

_She's been warned, begged and pleaded with not to wander off when undertaking work on any property belonging to Plunder, but she just needs a small sample of grain. The vial is clutched in her hand, ready to be filled._

_It'll take just a moment._

_A moment of uncertainty gives way to impulse. Linka slips out the doors and streaks across the paddock. The silo looms large in the distance, overshadowing the small tool shed that sits beside it. Metal drums and containers are scattered around the silo ladder and she heads towards it, increasing her pace until she hits the wall. She flattens herself against the metal and crouches down, catching her breath._

_She's not alerted to his presence until it's too late._

_A hand winds itself into the hair at the nape of her neck. Her head is yanked back violently and she nearly overbalances. She yelps, clenching her fingers into a fist and lashing out blindly. Linka raises her ring but it's too late._

_She feels the impact. Agonising pain flares through her temple as she's slammed face-first into the metallic drum. The lid bounces off and the drum overturns, spilling grain onto the ground. Her body drops heavily and she barely registers her ring being removed and tossed away. The vial is long gone, crushed under a heavy work boot that is currently too close to her face for comfort._

_She rolls over, clutching her forehead in agony and feeling blood pooling between her fingers. She feels those hands again, slipping under her armpits and hauling her to her feet._

_The smell of alcohol and sweat are overpowering. Her heart pounds hard in her chest, knowing without a doubt that Andrei Kroi has found her. She's screaming for help now but his hand clamps down over her mouth. The other wraps around her waist and she's lifted off her feet and spirited away inside the shed._

_She squeals in terror as he kicks the door shut behind him and drags her into the middle._

_It's dark in here. So dark._

_The air is heavy with silt and she is alone in this dark prison with him — at his mercy. Her stomach falls away as she processes the knowledge that after the months of leers, threats and harassment, he means to hurt her._

_He means to rape her._

_Kroi flings her to the floor, sending her sprawling. She's quickly on her hands and knees, scrambling to her feet as she stumbles forward, kicking up dust in her wake. Trying to dodge and avoid him, but it's too dark. She can't see where she's going._

_She heads for what she thinks is the door. She can just see the rectangular gaps illuminated by the moonlight outside._

_But she's injured, and he's simply too fast for her. Kroi grabs hold of her hair again, and she cries out as he drags her back against him. His meaty forearm winds tightly around her neck. Scratching and clawing at his arm, she tries desperately to relieve the pressure as he sinks to his knees on the ground, pulling her downwards until she's forced into his lap._

_Kroi shoves Linka forward and she tumbles face-first into the dirt. He's able to anchor her in place with a knee pressing hard into her shoulder blades._ _He's come prepared. Grabbing her wrists, he uses cable-ties to bind them behind her back, ignoring her pleading and crying._

_"Get off me!" she cries; her words muffled and lost amongst the grit and sediment._

_"Ya tebya khochu," he growls. He grips her shoulders and flips her over onto her back. She can just see the outline of his face now bearing down on her. "Krasivaya devushka."_

_He's breathing heavily, rough and impatient. Nails scratching her skin and fabric tearing as he rips her cotton shirt apart and tugs it down her shoulders until it's laying in tatters around her waist._

_"WHEELER!" she screams at the top of her lungs, hoping and praying that he's nearby. The other Planeteers aren't even a consideration. Kroi's past behaviour around her had already raised alarm bells with her rather protective team-mate — not that she had ever thought it would lead to this. She cries out, unable to stop him from ripping the flimsy bra straps from her trembling shoulders._

_"WHEELER!"_

_Her bra is tossed aside and she moans as Kroi's hand clamps over her mouth again to stifle any further sound._

_His free hand presses down painfully on her bare breast and she's weeping now. No more strong, independent woman in control of her destiny. She's now reduced to a bleeding, bound mess — half naked and kicking her legs wildly as his mouth clamps down on her neck, biting and licking her skin as he grunts above her._

_A knee presses between her thighs and she squeezes them shut as tightly as she can, trying to wriggle away. Removing his hand from her mouth for a moment, she hitches her breath to scream again and he slaps her hard, causing her face to whip to the right._

_Kroi’s hand pushes beneath the hem of her shorts. She retaliates violently, kicking with all her might, and this time he clenches his fist and punches her. She shrieks in pain, her cheek-bone throbbing as he forces her knees apart and positions himself between them. The jangle of a belt buckle can be a heard over the scuffle as she renews her efforts to dislodge him, screaming into the meaty flesh of his hand._

_He strikes her again: a right hook to the stomach that leaves her slumped and winded. Linka groans, dazed as he falls on top of her. Kroi is breathing heavily now, grinding the length of his body against her, whispering in Russian what he's planning on doing to her, in graphic detail._

_His hands are rough. One is back over her mouth, and now that she's anchored in place, the other starts to roam. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as he presses his hand between her legs. She gives an anguished howl against his palm as he shoves his hand beneath the waistband of the shorts slung low around her hips._

_The light changes. It is barely discernible but Kroi is too distracted to notice._

_A flash of movement. Running footsteps and a bellow of undiluted rage. Linka screams as something impacts upon Kroi's back. His full body weight topples forward, crushing Linka's small frame._

_"SON OF A BITCH!"_

_Kroi quickly recovers himself and stumbles to his feet, kicking up dirt and dust that settles over Linka's trembling body. There's a scuffle going on beside her — a violent, twisting mass of shadows in the gloom, but there's no mistaking the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Two, three, four more strikes._

_Kroi finally keels over sideways, landing heavily in the dirt. The struggle continues, however — repeated blows reigning down on her attacker just a few feet away._

_Linka rolls painfully onto her side. Her breath is coming in shallow gasps. She squeezes her eyes shut, curling into a foetal position — knees tucked towards her bare chest. She can taste blood and dirt in her mouth, and her face and jaw are aching._

_She hears a final blow levelled before all falls silent, save for her own ragged breathing._

_"Lin?"_

_Wheeler's voice. Gentle hands touch her face, stroking the matted hair from her forehead and eyes — in direct contrast to the fury they unleashed on the man laying unconscious a few feet away. His fingers brush her bare shoulder. The contact is brief: it's gone again, almost as if he's cottoned on to the fact that her clothes are torn and strewn around the ground around them._

_"Lin? Are you okay?" There's a raw edge of panic in his voice. "Did he hurt you?"_

_He's on his knees beside her, crouched over her. She's still too stunned to answer. He shrugs out his jacket and drapes it over her upper body._

_"Lin, can you hear me?"_

_She nods tearfully. It's all she can do. Her voice has failed._

_She flexes the hands still bound behind her back. He realises her predicament and makes short work of melting the plastic tie now embedded within her skin. He's slow and meticulous, careful not to burn her wrists. The jacket is slipping downward towards the ground and once she is released, she clutches it to her chest with trembling fingers._

_She pushes herself up with her free hand, and he drops to his knees in front of her, helping her into a sitting position. Dizziness hits her, followed by a sudden wave of nausea. It's unexpected. Linka crumples forward as she vomits onto the dusty ground._

_"Jesus." Wheeler slumps to the floor beside her, holding her hair away from her face as she dry-retches once more. She steadies herself finally, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and staring at Kroi's prone figure._

_"Babe, did he hurt you?"_

_She wants to cry yes. Yes, he beat me and slapped me and touched me. He pulled my hair and drew blood. But she knows that's not what he means._

_"Lin?"_

_"No." Linka shakes her head. She's barely audible and Wheeler has to lean forward in order to hear. "It is fine. I am fine. He did not get far."_

_"Fucking bastard," he seethes, glaring in Kroi's direction. "Gonna rip his heart out, piece of shit —"_

_Wheeler inspects her face, clearly horrified as the full extent of her injuries becomes apparent. The veins are standing out in his neck, and she can see he's struggling to maintain his composure._

_"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him," he snarls. "Gonna —"_

_"I am fine, Wheeler," she responds. Her voice is stronger now — the initial shock has worn off. Her hands seek out the tender areas around her face, prodding the swollen and split skin. "Really, I am fine."_

_"I’m gonna have to get Gi down here, babe," he says, gesturing helplessly towards her dirt-covered legs and torn clothing. He's still appraising her rapidly-swelling face worriedly. "I'm probably not the best… the last person you'd want… I mean with… you know."_

_He moves to raise his ring, but she grips his wrist and lowers it. She's not ready. Not ready for explanations and pity. Not ready to face the others._

_"Just give me a moment," she says softly, hastily wiping away more tears tracking down her cheeks. Wheeler seems hesitant — perhaps nervous about increasing any further physical contact due to the circumstances. "I am… I need a moment."_

_"I don't..." He seems at a loss, still processing what has gone down. "What can I do?"_

_She glances down at his own hands, illuminated by the light of his ring. Blood drips down his fingers, and she notes the swollen knuckles and abrasions marking his skin. They’ll be purple and bruised tomorrow, yet he appears completely oblivious._

_The tears are coming again. She can’t stop them. Her face contorts with grief and she_ _crumples forward in a heap, barely registering his arms going around her. Settling her cheek against his with a heavy sigh, Linka presses her face into Wheeler's throat; her tears hot and wet against his skin._

_"I am so sorry," she gasps. “I should not have gone off on my own."_

_"Not your fault," he says softly. Wheeler shakes his head, readjusting the jacket that's slipping down between them. She hasn't noticed._

_Linka tightens her grip, squeezing her eyes shut as she breaks down._

* * *

"That fuckin' hole in the sky look bigger to you?"

"Yep."

Bleak stuffed his hands into his pockets, spotting a large rock in the field they were currently cutting through. He took a few running steps and launched an impressive kick, sending it flying into the air.

"Great," he muttered, glaring up at the glistening ripple that had indeed widened over the course of the past week. "Stupid fuckin' future."

"Little ray of sunshine, aren't ya?"

The petite freckle-faced pixie was peering at him curiously. Greta or Gracie? He couldn't remember her name for sure. Didn't care, really.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you right back, dude," she replied, glaring at him.

Bleak couldn't help but smirk. He respected a woman with attitude. He nodded towards the forlorn little Water Planeteer walking alone some twenty feet in front of them. "What's her problem?"

"World's gone to shit. Lost her best friend. No way of knowing if her family are alive. Stuck with you." Pixie-Girl shrugged. "She's down."

Bleak grunted. "Gotta get over it. Toughen up. Can't let feelings overrule you."

"As opposed to you? Completely devoid of empathy or emotion? Linka told me some of —"

"I am not devoid of emotion, ya little twerp."

"My fucking leather boot has a greater emotional range than you, Bleak," she bit back. "You think you have it all together? Need to wake up and smell the roses."

"There are no fucking roses."

"Oh holy hell," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

"I don't miss nothin'."

"What's my fuckin' name, Einstein?"

Bleak stared at her for a moment, floored. "It's Greta, right?"

"Oh man. No. It's not." The pixie chuckled, shaking her head. She stopped, dropping her bag to the ground and stretching her arms behind her back, ironing out the kinks. "Grace."

"That was my second guess," he muttered as he waited for her. She bent down, retrieving her drink bottle from the side pocket and downing half of the contents. "Where ya from, kid?"

"Philadelphia. Originally, anyway," she replied. "You?"

"All over," he said. "No fixed address. I go where the boss goes."

"The boss, huh?" she said. Grace folded her arms, watching him curiously. "If we succeed in gettin' you home —you gonna go back to that life?"

"Dunno," he said, not quite meeting her eyes. He stared sullenly at the ground, kicking a clump of weeds with the tip of his shoe. "Torn between settling back into routine — and slittin' Plunder's throat and ridin' off into the sunset."

"Uh huh," she said again. "Charming. Employee of the year, right there."

Bleak shrugged. "Just bein' honest."

They resumed walking — dipping under the wire fence and back on the highway again. "Why would you consider going back? I mean, after all you know now?"

"Good money."

Grace groaned. "Your boss washed his hands of you. Both in your timeline and here. Linka mentioned that the 'future' you didn't survive. You think that's a coincidence? What if your fucking boss ordered it? Wanted you replaced? Maybe you became a liability?"

"Maybe I became a guitar-totin' yodelling preacher? Maybe I switched industries? Quit the merc business and went into manufacturing fuckin' barbie dolls?" He scoffed. "Why stop there, may—"

"You married?"

"What?"

"Married?" she asked, scrunching up her face. Bleak blinked, struggling to keep up with the rapid change in direction. "Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Into animals? Favourite call-girl?"

"Why?"

"Just makin' conversation," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyone special back at home?"

Bleak smirked. "Got a few regular girls. A few on the side… yeah. I do all right."

"Regular Romeo," she said. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't wanna know."

"You asked."

"So you're a merc? Like a mercenary? You killed anyone?"

"Yeah."

"What's your weapon of choice?"

"Fuck, you ask a lot of questions."

"Humor me."

"Jesus," he spat, eyeing the girl warily. "I've got a couple of long-range rifles. For times when it's up close and personal, though — Smith and Wesson 9mm."

"Uh huh," she said. "No idea what that is. Other than it's a gun."

"And you know how to shoot that thing?" he asked, nodding towards the bow slung over Grace's shoulder. "You accurate?"

"Hell no," she answered. "I aim for the head and get the kneecap of the guy six feet away."

"Gimme a look?"

"Um…" She suddenly looked unsure. "Yeah, I dunno."

"Blondie's filled you in, huh?"

"Yeah."

He grunted. "If I wanted 'em dead, they'd be dead already."

"Fair enough."

They walked along in silence for a while. Bleak folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the pompous, arrogant prick several hundred feet in front of him. Tom was still barking orders at everyone around him. Taking it upon himself to lead this 'mission'. The jerk was a model of superiority — even though he didn't deserve the self-proclaimed title.

He sighed, glancing up again at the jagged rip glistening above him. A slight breeze wafted past and he settled his eyes on the road ahead. A row of cars were lined up just in front of where Tom and three others were heading. It looked like an old toll-booth station. All but one of the toll booths were blocked, meaning access was limited.

Bleak's ears pricked. He halted, flinging his arm out and stopping Grace in her tracks.

"Wha—"

"Shhh." Bleak's eyes scanned the area carefully. The configuration of the cars. The bottle-neck effect they would cause for any travellers passing through. The booth on stilts further back to the right he had just wandered past. Seemingly empty.

Bleak glanced back, staring at at the booth again.

_Fuckin' look-out._

Bleak's mouth went dry.

"Gimme your bow, kid."

"What? Why?"

"For fuck's sake," he spat. He had no time to pander to her. Bleak reefed the bow from her shoulder and pushed her hard, sending Grace spinning into the overgrown shrubs lining the highway. "Stay down."

"What's going —"

"Stay down," he repeated. His mouth tightened, watching the Water Planeteer still wandering along idly between himself and Tom. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the air, trying to get her to turn around. It bounced to a stop beside her but she merely glanced at it.

"Hey! You! Water!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down, not wanting to draw attention to himself. "Oi!"

"Hey Gi!" Grace called, still hidden in the shrubs. Her voice was remarkably calm and Bleak had to give her props for keeping it low-key. "Come here!"

Gi turned, hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at Bleak. Searching for Grace's disembodied voice still calling out to her.

"Get over here, kid," Bleak said loudly through gritted teeth. "Now."

"Bleak, I swear to God," Gi said, turning and walking back towards them. "I'm really not in the mood for your —"

The sound of a bullet ricocheting caused Gi to freeze, looking around in confusion.

"MOVE IT, KID!" he bellowed and Gi broke into a run, sprinting towards him. Shouts echoed from the toll booth and Bleak crouched down in the shrubs, watching Tom and the others drawing their weapons and forming defensive positions.

A dozen men suddenly leapt out from the toll booths, converging on the unfortunate souls at the front. Half of the attackers broke off and started heading towards himself and the girls.

"Shit." He grabbed Gi by the shirt as she reached him, shoving her roughly down next to Grace. He pointed towards the valley. "Head in that directon. Spotted a steeple in the distance that way. Probably a church. Keep down and wait for me there. I'll come find you."

"Where are you going?" Gi hissed.

"Gonna take a few of these clowns out and grab their weapons." He loaded the bow and aimed, releasing the string with practiced ease. Grace watched on as one of the raiders hit the ground. "We need the fucking map. Go!"

They didn't need another reminder. A bullet whizzed past and the girls fled into the long grass hand in hand.

* * *

"How far to the museum?"

"Not far," Kwame said. He was sitting with his head in his hands, perched sideways within the passenger seat of a second-hand pick-up truck. A red "SALE!" sticker was splashed across the windshield of the vehicle inside the showroom. "Maybe an hour."

"We got a plan?"

"No plan," Kwame said. He sounded grim, almost defeated. "We just get in there and find him."

"You reckon they'll be waitin' for us?"

"Yes."

Wheeler rubbed his face tiredly, glancing at Linka. She was stretched out on a sofa, dozing in the administration office of the car-yard. He could see her blonde hair trailing down onto the floor — her arm bent back and resting over her face.

Wheeler passed around the vehicle and dropped into the drivers seat next to him, leaning back and running his hands over the wheel.

A piece of paper was scrunched up within the center console and Wheeler glanced at it, curious. Recognising it from the highway, the one Kwame was clutching after they'd found the first body.

He picked it up and unfolded it, immediately recognising the SAIP symbol at the bottom.

Kwame raised his head, watching Wheeler read the untidy, almost manic scrawl.

_Wanda has been delivered from her sins._

_Her soul has been purged._

_Cast forth, free to dance with my beloved,_

_Until the eternal light cleanses all._

"Fuckin' hell," he said aloud, his mouth dropping open. "You kiddin' me? Blight?"

"I think it is safe to say that Barbara Blight has officially entered the realm of insanity."

"Blight's lost the fuckin' plot," Wheeler said, staring hard at the loopy letter formation. "Her soul has been purged?"

Kwame straightened, leaning back and turning his body towards Wheeler. "I think getting inside the museum will be relatively easy. They need us to locate Cap and return him. Once we do that, all bets are off. I think getting out will be the hardest part."

"Agreed. What do ya wanna —"

"We will need to split up at that point and go. Fast. Even when we regain our powers, we cannot risk them capturing all three of us. I am also concerned about what Blight may do to Linka. She has obviously carried a lot of rage that would have only increased over the years." Kwame gestured towards the paper still clutched within Wheeler's hand.

Wheeler frowned, glancing again at her sleeping figure. "You think Blight might —"

"The woman is unstable, she has severe impulse control problems and is delusional and psychotic. Regardless of the fact she has brought Linka back for a specific purpose, I am still worried that Blight may be unable to control herself."

"All right," Wheeler said, his voice low. What do —"

"I need you to promise me something."

Wheeler fixed his blue eyes on Kwame. "Yeah?"

"You don't wait for me. You don't wait for any of the others. If things start going downhill, you grab her and you head for Nevada."

"Jesus, Kwame, I —"

"You don't wait for me. All right?"

Wheeler stared back at him, clearly unhappy. "We can't power the machine without all five rings, you—"

"She needs me there as much as the rest of you. I would simply prefer to limit the damage and decrease her bargaining power. And having Blight kill your wife a second time and damning us all to a much shorter life expectancy does not appeal to me."

"All right."

"If the situation arises, don't wait for me. For any of us."

Wheeler sighed heavily. "Got it."

Kwame stretched his arm across, gripping Wheeler's shoulder and smiling fondly at the American. "Regardless of the horrendous existence we have found ourselves in, it delights me to see the two of you together again."

"Yeah," he answered, glancing down. "Just like old times, I guess."

The car lurched slightly as Kwame pushed himself to his feet. "Let us get this over with, shall we?"

Wheeler nodded. He climbed out of the car and walked towards the office to wake the girl dozing peacefully within.


	30. Chapter 30

 

_It's late afternoon._

_She's taking a week's respite from the job. A reluctant move on her part, however Kwame and Gaia (looking alarmingly worn and more transparent every time they see her) still refuse to take 'no' for an answer._

_Linka's protests fall on deaf ears. A compromise is reached, however: that she will travel along with them, but not accompany them on eco-missions; remaining in their shared lodgings instead._

_She's restless. Bored out of her brain._

_The others are due back soon. Linka glances up from her computer — her eyes peering over the monitor towards the front door, as if expecting them to waltz inside at any moment._

_She's seated in an old-fashioned rattan sofa. Her bare feet are propped up on a waste-paper basket she's dragged over. She's dressed casually in a singlet and jeans; her hair pulled up into a messy bun with loose tendrils falling around her shoulders. A pencil is wedged through the centre. She's forgotten it's there._

_The bruises are fading and the swelling has subsided. Her right cheekbone still bares a slight discolouration, but nothing a little concealer won't fix. Her nerves continue to be fraught, however. She's tense and on edge a lot, but she guesses (hopes) that will fade with time._

_She squints — the letters and words on the monitor are blurring into one another. The thought occurs to her that she may need to get her vision tested. Spending hours upon hours in front of computer screens is starting to wreak havoc with her eyesight._

_Sinking back into the couch, she glances at the notepad filled with her trademark tidy, perfectly formed handwriting. The study has been worth it. Her secondary certificate is now complete, posted to her via a nondescript brown envelope several weeks ago._

_Linka's spent a small portion of her time off contacting colleges, seeking information about entry requirements. If accepted, she wants to defer her studies. Most campuses will allow her to defer the course for up to three years and that option appeals to her._

_She's not ready yet, but it always pays to be organised._

_One or two universities in Europe have replied to her queries, but most of her preferred options are located in the United States. She tells herself they are simply more prestigious degrees with better job prospects, but sometimes she's not sure. Sometimes her head and her heart give conflicting advice. She doesn't know whether to trust what her inner monologue is telling her._

_That maybe studying in the US is appealing to her for other reasons._

_She's distracted. Her concentration levels are at an all time low. The essay on 'Ecological Sustainability and Its Impact on Farming and Development' is moving along at a snail's pace. But there's not much else to do. The television isn't working. The internet connection here is either appalling or non-existent, but that's no real surprise for a third world country like Nigeria._

_There are voices outside in the hallway now. They are getting closer, progressively louder. She smiles, shutting down her notebook and closing the lid; her mood significantly lifted. The key turns in the lock and Ma-Ti and Kwame file in, looking weary._

_Ma-Ti raises his hand in greeting. "Hey."_

_"Hello," she replies. "How was —"_

_Kwame shakes his head tiredly. "Bad day."_

_She rises to her feet and heads for the door, peeking around the frame and spotting Gi and Wheeler heading towards her. Wheeler's arm is slung over Gi's shoulders and she's pressed up against him, obviously upset._

_She moves aside to let them pass._

_"What happened?" she asks, eyes wide with worry as Wheeler transfers her to the couch. Linka sinks down beside her, casting a nervous look at the Yankee as Gi shuffles up and curls herself up into Linka's lap. She's sniffling, covering her face with her hand._

_"Gi, what happened," she whispers again, stroking the hair out of her friend's face. "Are you all right?"_

_Gi shakes her head. Her eyes are closed and she's now gripping Linka's thigh so tightly that it hurts._

_Her eyes track Wheeler as he moves around the couch. He grabs Gi's ankles, raising her legs slightly as he drops into the seat beside Linka, before repositioning Gi's legs so that they're draped over his lap._

_"Hey," Wheeler says quietly. He tilts his head back; running a hand over his face and gazing at the ceiling fan whirring quietly above their heads. His hands are now settled on Gi's calves and it's then she notices the blood caked within his fingernails._

_Linka frowns, reaching for his hand. She turns it over. More rust-colored streaks mark the skin of his wrists and the back of his hands._

_"This is blood," she murmurs, raising her eyes to his. "What happened to distributing the food and med —"_

_"We got pummelled," he answers. His jaw is tense and his blue eyes are staring upwards, still fixed on the fan circulating hot air and doing little to cool the already stifling room. "Made the drop to the refugees. Didn't even get the chance to unload it."_

_"Oh God. Who —"_

_"Rebels. Bastards were aimin' for the women and children."_

_"Oh no," she breathes, looking down and running her fingers through Gi's hair. Gi sniffles, a tremor passing through her body. Linka gestures toward Gi, a questioning look on her face._

_"Seven year old died in her arms today," he says quietly, and Linka recoils, horrified._

_"Bozhe moy," she breathes, settling her hand on Gi's forehead. "When will it end?"_

_"It's gettin' worse."_

_"Why would…" She's lost for words for a moment. "They are murdering their own people!"_

_"That's civil war for ya. Bastards are comin' up with new and completely fucked-up ways to kill each other. It's the poor people in the middle who suffer for it."_

_"Greed. The root of all evil." Kwame's voice resonates from the next room. "Why can people not learn to get along?"_

_Wheeler sighs. His gaze settles on the mottled skin of her cheekbone. "How're you?" he asks._

_She gives him a small smile, taking hold of his hand again and pressing it gently between her palms. Her eyes are still fixed on the dried blood staining his weathered knuckles. All of a sudden, her troubles with Kroi no longer seem valid, paling in comparison to the tens of thousands of displaced people stuck at the border._

_"I am all right," she says softly, stroking the length of his fingers. "Feeling okay."_

_He squeezes her hand back. Moving Gi's legs aside, Wheeler stands and stretches with a yawn. "I'm hittin' the shower."_

_"All right," she replies, giving him another small smile. He places his hand on Linka's shoulder as he leaves for the bathroom._

_"There's a pencil in your hair," he calls, just before he closes the bathroom door._

_Linka doesn't bother retrieving it._

* * *

"You know, I was never religious. I mean, before all this," Grace said, gesturing around them. "But I can appreciate the idea, I guess."

Gi nodded. She was huddled against the pulpit, staring up at the stained glass windows above their heads. "Yeah. I guess churches and the idea of needing sanctuary go hand in hand."

"You reckon our little buddy's gonna come find us?"

"Bleak?" Gi asked with a tinge of bitterness. "The Bleak that I know? He'd leave us here to die."

"He doesn't seem that bad, Gi," Grace replied. She sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "Bit of a grumpy bastard, though."

"He's vicious," Gi replied. "We had a lot of bad run-ins with Argos Bleak. He was always loyal to a fault when it came to Plunder."

Grace shrugged. "Alliances can change," she said softly.

"Yeah, when it's in his own interests," Gi muttered. "You don't know him like I do."

"Linka seems to trust him," Grace said. A muscle in Gi's cheek moved and she looked away, rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah."

"I dunno. They seem to be getting on all —"

"Yeah."

Grace stopped, knowing that the conversation was being shut down. She sighed, glancing again at Gi's closed-off body language.

"What happened?"

Gi sniffed. "What do you mean?"

"At the end? When you guys all went your separate ways?"

Gi shook her head. "I wasn't ready," she whispered. "We weren't given enough time."

"Time for what?"

"Time for anything," she said. "One minute she's there… the next she's gone. I guess I never really moved on after they took her away."

"It'd be hard," Grace said, eyeing the church double-doors nervously. "At least you still had Kwame and —"

"It wasn't the same," she said softly. Gi gazed down at her hands, composing herself. "I was closest to Wheeler and Linka. They were like a brother and sister to me."

"Not to each other, though," Grace teased.

"God, no," Gi laughed. "No."

"I think it's kinda romantic," Grace smiled. "That it took all that time for them to… you know. Be honest with one another."

"You have no idea." Gi groaned, shaking her head in wonder. "Nine years. Sometimes… I mean, she was my best friend and all… but sometimes I just wanted to shake some sense into her."

"How do you mean?"

"Stubborn," Gi laughed, tilting her head back against the wooden pulpit. "Those two were the bane of our existence. I guess it frustrated me that she had this amazing guy under her nose the whole time. A guy who utterly adored her. She just refused to let him in for so long."

"Oh."

"Things started changing in the final year, though," Gi smiled. "I think she was coming around to the idea. Some mornings, we'd catch them asleep on the sofa together. Sneaky cuddles when they thought we weren't looking. She started being really attentive towards him."

"Gettin' closer?"

"They were pretty much inseparable towards the end. They weren't  _together_ , but I think they were heading that way, anyway."

"Had to happen sooner or later," Grace said.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Then the death threats started. Blight took a contract out on her. Got word that Kroi was looking for her. CIA got spooked — and then they were gone. Spirited away in a black van. Just like that."

Grace placed a comforting hand on Gi's shoulder. Staying silent, as the words tumbled out of Gi's mouth.

"Everything changed when they left. Once they were gone, they were literally  _gone_. We heard nothing from them, nothing about them. That was the hardest part, I think."

"There was a photo," Grace said. "I saw a photo of you and Linka at a restaurant —"

"Yeah," Gi grinned. "Wheeler and Kwame agreed on a time and place to meet up. They gave it eighteen months for everything to settle down, hoping that Blight was no longer a threat. And then eighteen months goes by — the three of us are sittin' in this little place. We'd been there for half an hour, waiting. Not really expecting them to show."

"But they did?"

Gi nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "They'd been there the whole time, three tables over — watching us. Wanting to see if we'd recognise them." She laughed at the memory. "We didn't."

"Look different?"

"Yeah," she said. "Wheeler had gone blonde. Linka's hair was so much shorter, to her shoulders. She was wearing glasses when we arrived… I think Hannah was the biggest shock, though." Gi shrugged. "We weren't expecting that."

"Oh, the baby was with them?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "Coulda' knocked us over with a feather. Ma-Ti nearly fell off his chair when he spotted the three of them. If you guys had searched any further through my folder, you probably would have found some of pictures of Linka and Hannah buried in the back."

"Yeah," Grace breathed. "Glad we didn't find those. Think Linka woulda' passed out."

"It was just like old times again," she said. "Spent the whole night laughing hysterically. Didn't realise how much I'd missed that. They seemed so happy. Wheeler was totally devoted to his girls. Just crazy about them."

"He seems like a nice guy," Grace volunteered. "I get so tongue-tied around him. It's embarrassing."

"He's different now. He used to be so funny. Hilarious. The spark left him when Linka died."

"I'm guessing so did yours," Grace said quietly and Gi raised her eyes for a moment.

"Sometimes…" Gi whispered, her eyes downcast again. "Sometimes I wish that someone would look at me the way he used to look at her."

"Oh honey," Grace began but Gi shook her head.

"I felt like I was left behind," she sobbed, tears starting to fall. "Wheeler and Linka were married. Ma-Ti returned to South America and met his wife. Kwame was busy doing humanitarian work back in West Africa. I didn't hear much from them. I went home and spent the next few months staring at the ceiling and cleaning my parent's kitchen."

"Geez, Gi —"

"And sometimes when I close my eyes," she gasped, stifling sobs. " Sometimes I can still see some of the awful stuff we witnessed towards the end. The environmental stuff just sort of faded into the background. Things started to get really bad."

Grace squeezed the back of Gi's neck, letting her press on.

"And when Linka died and everything started falling apart..." She shrugged, wiping her eyes on the inside of her sleeve. "I think Kwame could see that I was struggling. He kept in contact more after that. I think he felt guilty."

"I'm so sorry, Gi," Grace said. She wrapped an arm around her, pressing her chin on top of Gi's shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Ancient history, really," she said. Gi took a deep breath, giving Grace a watery smile. "Sorry. Getting all soppy and emotional on you."

"All good," Grace said, squeezing her shoulder. "I cried into an empty baked-bean can last week."

"Oh." Gi's mouth quirked, wiping her nose. "Have a bad day?"

"No. I just really like beans," she replied and Gi snorted, clapping a hand to her mouth.

"You're an id —"

The double doors lurched and shuddered and both girls jumped to their feet, darting for the aisle. They ducked down behind the wooden pews as the doors rattled again. A loud metallic groan filled the air as the doors swung open, rusted hinges working overtime. A figure passed though, closing the doors behind him and striding down the aisle, muttering under his breath.

"Bleak," Gi said, rising to her feet. "What happened to —"

"Dude, you're hurt?" Grace added but Bleak shook his head.

"Not my blood," he barked. He sunk heavily into the bench seats towards the middle and the girls approached him cautiously, apprehensive due to both his appearance and the fact he had a rifle slung over his shoulder. "Fuckin' future."

"You all right?"

Bleak nodded. He wiped an unsteady hand over his face, only succeeding in smearing blood over the bare spots. "Took out the guy in the tower. Too busy lookin' for you," he said, nodding in Gi's direction.

"What happened to the oth—" Gi asked.

"Dead."

Gi blinked, her mouth working soundlessly. She gripped the banister at the end of the pew before pushing herself away. She turned and headed back for the pulpit, dropping down and wrapping her arms around her legs.

"We'll stay here tonight. Leave in the mornin'."

Grace nodded. "No one followed you back here?"

"No one left to follow," he said gruffly, readjusting the rifle and heading for the small room off to the side. "Wake me and I'll put a bullet to you."

"Always a pleasure, Bleak," Grace called out after him. She gave him the finger as he turned back with a smirk and a dismissive wave.

Grace stood in the center of the aisle for a moment, gathering her thoughts before returning to Gi's side.

* * *

"You feeling particularly cultured, yet?" Sam asked, staring hard at the sign. They'd reached the museum carpark and were surveying the grounds beyond it.

Linka hadn't been sure what to expect. Seeing the poor condition of the suburbs they'd left behind, she was certainly surprised to find the Museum of Natural History in pristine, leafy condition.

The museum was located within sprawling, impressive gardens that were obviously well taken care of… even now. She bit down on her thumb, wondering if Blight was lucid enough to engage and organise groundskeepers to maintain the place.

Wondering if the people supposedly contained within the museum had systems and rules in place like Belmont.

Did Blight leave the people who had flocked to her to their own devices, or did she rule them with an iron fist?

Looking at the neatly trimmed hedges and immaculate grounds, Linka assumed the latter.

It was certainly food for thought… and it left her feeling uneasy. Doctor Blight's headquarters wasn't the only thing leaving her uneasy, however.

The dreams were becoming clearer. Increasing in clarity and leaving her feeling unsettled. Parts of these dreams were unusually vivid and certain details were left imprinted within her memory upon waking.

A particularly nasty one two nights ago had evoked a physical response, causing her to wake — sweating and sobbing in terror. Dry-heaving into the ground beside her, she'd composed herself quickly and quietly but had remained on edge for the rest of the night.

Linka sighed, pushing it from her mind, needing to concentrate on the task at hand. She moved past the tyre and peeked around the side of the truck currently sheltering them from view. A few figures were identifiable in the distance. Around four women laid out on the steps in front of the main entrance — taking advantage of the improved weather conditions and basking in the warm rays of the sun.

Linka looked down at her ring, frowning. A thought occurred to her.

"If I leave — if we are successful in getting me through the portal in Nevada, will the wind return?"

She could tell Kwame hadn't even considered this scenario. He looked vaguely troubled by the idea. He shrugged, raising his hands. "I hadn't even considered… I suppose so."

"We waitin' for nightfall?" Wheeler was sitting cross-legged against the tyre, a New York Yankees cap covering his head. "I don't think we have a chance in hell of gettin' through without —"

"We don't know our way around. Stumbling around in the dark may end up being counter-productive."

"Well, waltzing in during daylight doesn't exactly appeal to me either," Wheeler pointed out. He shuffled around the truck on his hands and knees, checking out the entrance for himself. "Look at em'. She's got a damn holiday resort operating out here."

Linka peeked around the side again, watching the new additions to the front entrance. A group of men had appeared, dressed in board shorts and carrying large inflatable animals. They disappeared out into the grounds, no doubt headed for the pond just visible in the distance.

"Pool toys. Well dressed," Sam said, narrowing his eyes. "Bastards are better stocked than we are."

"I am wondering what the appeal is," Kwame said quietly, crouching down and listening to the young men shrieking and yelling within the cold water. "Why they would choose to go to  _her?_ "

"Blight's fantasy camp," Wheeler muttered under his breath. "Free lobotomy with every adult entry."

Dan snorted, stepping away from the group for a moment, his shoulders heaving with laughter. Linka couldn't help herself, either. Despite the tense circumstances, she snickered into her palm, wiping her eyes and turning away from Kwame's stern expression.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Kwame rolled his eyes at the rag-tag group of travellers currently disintegrating at Wheeler's deadpan expression.

"Shh. Enough," he responded, but Linka couldn't help but notice the smirk gracing Kwame's features. "Fine. We'll wait until dusk."


	31. Chapter 31

_Ma-Ti is waiting for her in the foyer, sitting on a leather sofa and reading a magazine. She steps out of the elevator and steam might as well be issuing from her ears. She's so angry. She feels utterly betrayed by the men's club upstairs._

_Ma-Ti is up and on his feet as soon as he sees her face, startled to see tears streaming down her cheeks._

_"What happened?" he calls in a worried tone. Clearly not expecting to see her in such a state._

_She strides past him and pushes through the glass doors. They swing open, rebounding against the door buffer and Ma-Ti barely makes it through behind her before the momentum slams them shut again._

_Linka wipes her face, crossing her arms in front of her as she hurries down the street. Ma-Ti is struggling to keep up, slightly out of breath as he grabs her arm and tugs gently. She halts outside of a deli, glaring back in the direction they've just come from._

_"What happened, Linka?"_ _He's still holding the magazine. It's rolled up and clutched within his fist, forgotten in the moment._

_"They will not listen to me," she cries. She shakes her head, her ears still ringing from the almighty argument that had erupted. "I tried… they shouldn't have… he saw me."_

_"Just calm down." Ma-Ti leads Linka to a bustling alfresco-type cafe on the corner, weaving his way towards an empty table setting. He reaches for her hand, concerned. "Who saw you?"_

_"MAL!"_

_Ma-Ti blinks. He sits down heavily, considering the implications. "Did he recognise you?"_

_"Of course he recognised me!"_

_"I do not understand, Linka. Why was he even —"_

_"SAIP's programming is dictated by MAL! He finally showed his face to them."_

_She shudders as she slumps into the seat opposite him, recalling the room's shocked reaction to the electronic entity appearing on the main screen. They were spooked to say the least._

_MAL's voice dripping with sarcasm as he addressed them. A malicious grin as he regarded Linka, referring to her by name and greeting her warmly — almost as if greeting an old friend._

_She drops her head into her hands, and Ma-Ti moves seats, sitting next to her and placing his palm on her back._

_"What happened?"_

_"They were in a panic. They were talking about uploading the virus before it is ready."_

_"Would that be a bad thing, Linka?" Ma-Ti frowns, glancing at the waiter bustling past with an armful of dirty plates. "Is it ready? The virus?"_

_"We need more time. I begged them — I begged them not to be hasty." She wipes more tears away. "They should not underestimate Blight. MAL said he had inbuilt defence mechanisms. An executable malware file, in case anyone tried to take him offline."_

_"Do you believe him?"_

_"Da," she whispers. She regards Ma-Ti with bloodshot eyes and sinks back into her chair, throwing her handkerchief to the table. "The CIA do not, however. They think he is bluffing."_

_"If they were to upload it… how long before —"_

_"It is a slow-release payload." She shrugs. "Only time will tell. We specifically designed it to infect MAL's CPU, removing every trace of SAIP in the process. It will be several days before we would know. Maybe a week."_

_"I am sure everything will be fine, Linka." Ma-Ti says reassuringly, reaching for her hand again. She squeezes gently, giving him a watery smile._

_"I do not understand why they asked me to consult to begin with," she says quietly. Tearfully. "To them, I am just a dumb blonde with an accent who owns a nice laptop."_

_"You are anything but a dumb blonde, Linka," Ma-Ti replies. "You are the smartest person I know."_

_She sniffs as she composes herself. His words cheer her up somewhat. "Spasiba."_

_"Cheer up. Things cannot be as bad as they seem." He grins, looking up as a waiter arrives to take their order. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee. You will see. Everything will be fine."_

_"A cup of coffee," she murmurs. She rubs her forehead and does her best to shake off the anxiety. Ma-Ti orders the drinks and a small smirk appears on her lips. "A piece of cake too?"_

_"Do not push your luck, Linka!" Ma-Ti laughs. They settle into their seats as the waiter returns inside the cafe. She feels a little calmer, propping her hands within her lap and glancing at her reflection in the window. She's pale and looking quite dishevelled._

_Linka's eyes wander over her wrists. The red, angry welts are still present. They are now the only evidence remaining courtesy of her ordeal with Kroi… other than the memories. She passes her fingers over the indentations, finally able to look them without succumbing to the feelings of rage and humiliation that had been present just a few days prior._

_She sighs, glancing down at the table and grazing her nails over the timber grain. "I looked up his record while I was there."_

_Ma-Ti raises his head, looking confused. "Who?"_

_"Kroi," she says softly._

_"Kroi?" His expression darkens as he leans forward, alert. "You said the preliminary checks didn't come up with any —"_

_"I dug deeper. I had access to the database. He has several aliases. They are linked by the same Ukrainian identity card number and bank accounts. I missed them, I have no excuse."_

_"What did you find?"_

_"Theft. Grand larceny." She pauses, swallowing before continuing. "Three convictions for aggravated sexual assault. Two incarcerations — one in Russia and one in Belarus."_

_"Linka," Ma-Ti breathes. He looks ill. "It could have been so much worse."_

_"I know," she says, pushing her hair away from her face and barely able to meet Ma-Ti's troubled gaze. "I saw the evidence photos. She was black and blue."_

_"Oh God, Linka."_

_"Do not tell the Yankee," she whispers. "He is still so angry about it."_

_"I won't."_

_They sit back for a little while, watching the world go by. A group of men in business suits wander past and a couple of them glance back, looking her over. She sniffs, hunching over the handbag clutched within her lap._

_"They are all the same."_

_Ma-Ti frowns. "Who?"_

_"Them," she says, gesturing towards the business men. "Kroi. The CIA. I am just a woman to them."_

_"That is not true, Link —"_

_"Only good for warming a bed and cooking a meal." Her expression hardens and for a moment she feels an irrational flare of anger. "I will never be equal."_

_Ma-Ti regards her silently. His eyes are sympathetic as he reaches forward and grips her hand. "For someone like Kroi — for someone as twisted and narcissistic as he is — NO woman will ever be his equal. You cannot change that. You have no control over that."_

_"Da." Linka nods, squeezing his hand. "I know."_

_"As for the CIA," Ma-Ti says, smiling at the waiter as he brings the coffees out, "People fear what they are threatened by."_

_"Why would they be threatened by me? What is the purpose? They have the same skills and the same goal in mind." She rolls her eyes. "They also have a better paying job with better conditions," she grumbles, and Ma-Ti can't help but laugh._

_"It is because you conduct yourself with integrity and a fierce intelligence that frightens them. It is a fault with their personality, not with yours."_

_She nods again, stirring her drink. She know's he's right. "Thank you."_

_"You are welcome," he smiles, raising his eyes to meet hers. "You also live and work with three guys here who certainly adore and value you — more than you will ever know."_

_"Da," She smiles shyly, flushing as she takes a sip of her coffee. "I know that, too."_

* * *

The museum and its grounds were showing no signs of quietening down. A constant stream of people were bustling around outside and Wheeler was unsure how many were currently going about their business within.

The sun was sitting low in the sky. Wheeler was restless, pacing around the area where they were hiding out. Wanting to move but frustrated by Kwame's reluctance to start their approach.

"It's not gonna get any better, Kwame. We have Linka's ring."

"I realise that," Kwame sighed, turning his attention to Sam. "Got your little bag of tricks?"

"Yep." Sam dropped his bulky bag to the ground. He rifled through the contents and withdrew several tan-coloured cylindrical sticks wrapped together with duct tape. "Ready to roll."

"What the hell?" Wheeler began, stepping forward and eyeing the device nervously. "Are you kiddin' me?"

"Sam used to work in stone quarries," Kwame explained, nodding towards the pond and surrounding buildings. "That's why I brought him. Blasting. Detonations."

"No kiddin'," Wheeler said, looking a little uneasy.

Kwame shrugged. "We could do with a few diversions."

"Gimme half an hour," Sam replied, digging around some more and pulling out a few timer devices. "What do you need?"

"A few controlled blasts. Maybe ten minutes apart. Enough to get their attention. Give us time to get inside."

"Three all up? It'll be a pretty minimal detonation but it should be loud enough to send them running."

"Do it."

"We goin' in after you?"

"Lay low outside. Keep an eye on things."

"All right. Wait for the big boom, then." Sam motioned to one of the other men. Together they jogged off in the direction of the gardens.

"I remembered him talking about the blasting process a while ago," Kwame said. "Thought he might come in useful."

"Handy dude to have around in an emergency," Wheeler muttered. "Seriously, I just wanna get this over with."

"So do I, my friend."

* * *

The roller-door had been raised somewhat, just enough for a body to squeeze through. He hoisted himself up and slipped inside, taking a seat next to Linka.

"Gotta wait for the big bang," he said, drawing his knees up and staring at the crates stacked neatly in front of them. "Pipe bombs are bein' laid."

She looked slightly perturbed by that thought. "What if Captain Planet is not in there?" she whispered. "What if it is a trap?"

The same thought had occurred to him. "Then we hightail it outta there."

" _Bozhe moy_." Linka rubbed her templed with a groan. "This was never part of our job description."

"Hell, no," he answered, doing his best to reassure her. "You shoulda seen some of the shit we had to put up with towards the end. This is a walk in the park."

She sat quietly, slumped against the wall. She seemed tense. Fretful.

"You all right?"

" _Da_ ," she said, looking down at her hands. "Just tired."

"Thought you said you were sleeping better?"

"Strange dreams," she replied. "I… I do not know. I am dreaming a lot."

Wheeler raised his eyebrows, watching her turn slightly to face him. "Dreamin' about what?"

"What happened to Kroi?"

"Kroi?" Wheeler found himself clenching his fists. "That fucking bastard? No idea. Why?"

"No reason." She looked away, her blonde hair framing her face prettily, and Wheeler felt a sudden urge to run his fingers through it. That maybe it was okay to let his guard down around her.

He'd caught himself a few times moving to wrap an arm around her waist, or reach for her hand. He hadn't even thought about it. An automatic reflex, a byproduct of the life he'd lived with her.

He sighed. She was still playing with her hair — lips slightly parted, wrapping blonde curls around her index finger, just as she used to when they were Planeteers.

Part of him had grieved the loss of her hair almost as much as she had, but she hadn't had a choice. The CIA had strongly advised that she modify her appearance before leaving.

He'd never forgotten the look on Linka's face on that last day; Gi mumbling that she'd done the best she could. The shade had been far too dark against her pale skin. Still beautiful, though - in all honesty, he would have loved her with a brown paper bag permanently attached to her head.

Linka had looked utterly bereft at the loss of her hair; the last remnants of her pride and joy lying discarded in thick piles on the bathroom floor.

Tear-stained face and vacant eyes, he'd watched her reach the limit of her monumental patience as chaos had erupted around her.

It had been anything but a typical final day on the job for Linka. The short notice she'd been given had seen to that.

No going away card signed by her team mates. No quiet dinner. No murmured well-wishes and pats on the back, as was the practice with other work places. No generous recommendations or references to carry over towards the next 'job.'

Those final twelve hours had been mayhem. Lot's of tears. Panic attacks. Packing. Emotional phone calls home to Russia. Gi's horrendous dye job and cut. A few Kwame/Gi screaming matches and finally, Linka's mad dash out into the rain when it all became too much for her to bear.

And he'd followed, swallowing his nerves and sprinting out into the night; intent on finding her and owning up. Years of ingrained swagger and bravado washed away by the downpour — stripped bare and replaced by the urgent need to convey those three little words that he hoped would make all the difference.

The day hadn't started well, but it had ended spectacularly: culminating in a frantic, heaving throw-down on a soggy pile of wet towels on the bathroom floor. She'd clung to him, fingernails dragging across his skin as she'd whimpered and panted beneath him. For such a reserved and controlled girl, she'd sure made a hell of a lot of noise that night.

He'd pulled a few muscles. She'd ended up with friction marks on her back and shoulders from the tiles, plus a few other mystery nicks and bruises that were unable to be explained away by conventional means.

But fuck, the wait had been worth it.

Just thinking about it got him hot under the collar. He shifted uncomfortably, distracting himself with visions of Doctor Blight riding unicorns while stuffing her face with Twinkies.

But as he watched her now, continuing to twist those golden highlights, it occurred to him that she wasn't  _his_  Linka. This Linka was most probably at the ambivalent stage of their relationship. Counting him as a close friend but too wrapped up in her work and her life to even consider a future with the smart-ass she'd left behind back in her own time.

It didn't matter, though. She was still perfection. Although now that he thought about it, perfection could be a problem for someone who needed to blend in for the next few hours. He frowned, sweeping his eyes over her.

"Here," he said, removing his cap and placing it on her head. He leaned forward, gathering up her hair and tucking it as best he could under the sides. "Don't want anyone recognising you."

"Do you think I will stand out?"

"You're a tall, blonde Russian who would have given most Victoria's Secret models a run for their money." He smiled, caressing her cheek affectionately. "You can't help  _but_  stand out."

She gave him a radiant smile, green eyes sparkling beneath his cap. Wheeler's eyes settled on her fingers; poking and prodding the seam of her jeans. He could tell she was nervous. Recalling their earlier conversation, he pressed forward again.

"Did Gi tell you what happened with Kroi?"

"Just that he attacked me."

"Yeah. Cornered you near a wheat silo. Genetically modified wheat with suspected carcinogens. You'd taken off to —"

"Collect a sample," she whispered, finishing his sentence, her face paling somewhat. "I had a test tube. Glass."

"Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Crushed it with his boot," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"Was I studying?"

"Studying?" He took a moment to recover from the confusion. "Uh, yeah, you finished your high school —"

"Did I end up at University?"

He shook his head. "No. Blight's death threats put a stop to that."

"Why?"

He gave her a sad smile. "All your prior knowledge and qualifications were under your old name. You had to leave them behind."

"Oh," she said softly. She scratched her head, looking thoughtful. "I guess my mind is trying to fill in the missing pieces. I am dreaming about a lot of… what is the word? Obtuse things?"

"Obscure?" he said.

"Yes. Obscure things. Strange details."

"Like what?"

She crossed her legs and leaned forward. "Oh, just small things, I guess. Studying. I dreamt about Kroi. I saw you find me and stop him from… you know." She raised her hand to her face, touching her cheekbone. "He grabbed my hair. Punched me and slapped me."

"Uh, yeah, and I rearranged his face on your behalf. Sick bastard," he spat. He frowned, regarding her with curiosity. "Did Gi tell you?"

"You gave me your jacket." It wasn't a question. Wheeler opened his mouth to reply but closed it again. She was peering down at her wrists. "Cable ties."

"Huh? How do you —" Wheeler gritted his teeth, making a mental note to give Gi a verbal serve when he saw her next.

"You burnt through them." She stared at her wrists. "The marks took a long time to heal."

"Did Gi tell you, babe? There's no way in hell I wanted you goin' back with that information."

"No." She sighed, shaking her head. "No one told me. I seem to be waking up with more and more images that were not there the day before."

"Like what? What else?"

"I think I —" She shook her head, frustrated, pulling the brim further down over her eyes. "It is nothing, Yankee. Just dreams about assignments and accountants. I cannot remember the —."

"Accountants?" Wheeler's ears pricked. "Wait a minute, you —"

"Liam? Logan? I remember a coffee stand in a foyer," she said, narrowing her eyes, trying to recall the details.

"You went on a date with an accountant, once," he said, staring incredulously at her. "Don't remember his name. You kept it to yourself, though."

"I did?"

"I only found out because you told me later on, after we left. The guy would chat you up over coffee when you were in —"

"Luke!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "Washington!"

"Yeah," he said, stunned. "Jesus."

"I am not dreaming, am I?" she said quietly, raising her eyes to his. "They are not dreams."

"No." He shook his head in wonder. "They're her memories."

"I don't want th —"

A loud explosion interrupted them, causing Linka to squeal in fright. Three loud bangs on the metal sides of the truck and Kwame's face appeared in the gap, motioning for them to exit the vehicle. They slid forward towards the roller-door, Wheeler making a mental note to discuss the dreams at a more appropriate time… if and when they made it out.

"Here we go," Wheeler muttered, grabbing Linka's hand and helping her out.

They ducked their heads around the side again. The sun had just set but the blaze was huge, lighting up the grounds on the other side of the property. People were beginning to file out of the museum, weapons ready as they hurried towards the blast site.

"Let's go," Kwame said, ushering everyone left towards the main section of the museum. They stayed close to the gardens, following the path and sneaking in through the service entrance around the back.


	32. Chapter 32

_Linka's not even sure what time it is. It's late — they'd eaten dinner hours ago. They stand wearily, huddled together outside a local cinema in a downtown suburb of Hong Kong._

_They're burning the candle at both ends. They need a night of something else — anything other than the environmental, political or judicial issues that they're currently drowning in._

_Something to take their minds of things. Something to celebrate a certain event that had passed without even a casual mention, gift or salutation to the person in question. They're all slightly perturbed by that fact._

_Linka moves forward with the crowd, tapping her handbag lightly with her fingertips. The line is long. It winds around the ticket window, past the candy bar and out the front doors, spilling out onto the sidewalk and down the street. Gi is bobbing impatiently beside her, trying to gauge how much longer the wait will be._

_A crowd of college students are in line in front of them and Gi's tiny frame struggles to see past them._

_"Can you see anything?"_

_"No." Linka cranes her neck but her own view is still obstructed by a sign. She smooths the pleated folds of her skirt and looks around, taking in all the sights and sounds. "What movie are we even seeing?"_

_"Something that'll no doubt kill a few brain cells," Gi mutters. "Too bad we don't get a choice."_

_"Damn straight," a voice pipes up from behind them. Wheeler is leaning against a street lamp, peering at a movie poster with Cantonese subtitles. "Teach you guys to forget my birthday. Pickin' the movie is the least you can let me do."_

_"You forgot it too, Wheeler," Ma-Ti laughs. "Overworked, overwhelmed… and forgetful, it would seem."_

_"Speaking of overworked — do not wake me if I fall asleep," Kwame says. He shuffles forward as the line starts to move, ushering Linka onwards. "Really. I mean it."_

_"What if you're snoring?" Gi asks. "Usher has a noise complaint from fifteen rows away? Vibrations are —"_

_"Don't wake me."_

_"All right," Gi replies. She's peering around the noisy students now, impatient to secure a seat inside. "Happy birthday though, Fireman. We're three days late in celebrating because we suck. But we're willing to sit through a shit Hollywood movie with Cantonese subtitles, so that makes us awesome."_

_"Least it's not dubbed," Wheeler adds with relief._

_The college guys are getting a little rowdy. There's some jovial pushing and shoving going on and Linka gasps as one of the men stumbles back, bumping into her in the process. He turns and says something to her in his native language. His face and body language are deeply apologetic but she tenses up all the same._

_The line moves again. Linka swallows, glancing around nervously. Her chest is tight and her heart is racing. Gentle hands rest on her shoulders and squeeze. She glances back and smiles at Kwame, thankful for the small gesture of reassurance._

_The front doors are in sight and they file through, chatting amiably while they wait. The ticket window is suddenly within reach and Linka grins, anticipating Wheeler's mad dash for the candy bar even before he does._

_They purchase tickets and wait by the cinema restrooms until the ravenous candy-craver appears, laden with an assortment of goodies._

_"Here," he says, distributing a few items amongst the group. They murmur thanks as they step inside. The theatre is a moderate size and packed to the brim with young people. They enter near the top and head downwards, searching for spare seats._

_"Thursday night in downtown Kowloon," Ma-Ti mutters. He points towards the front and Gi nods. "Over there."_

_"C'mon," Gi says, hurrying down to claim them. The others follow at a more leisurely pace and she ushers Ma-Ti in first, followed by Kwame who is practically grabbed by the sleeves of his jacket and hauled into place. She sits down and raises her eyebrows at Linka and Wheeler, still standing in the aisle. "Sorry, no room."_

_"Oh, Linka can have my —" Kwame interjects, moving to stand and copping an elbow to the thigh from the annoyed girl sitting beside him. "Ow, Gi."_

_"Shut it," Gi hisses, throwing him a look of fire and ice._

_Wheeler shrugs, walking away, and Linka follows, casting a backwards glance at Gi who is a picture of innocence._

_They find two empty seats a few rows in front of the others, at the far end by the wall. They shuffle past a bunch of teenagers and drop into the plush fabric._

_"What are we watching, Yankee?" she asks as he balances a carton of popcorn between his legs._

_"Dunno," he answers. He shoves the armrest upwards and places a few packets of candy between them before he sinks down further into the seat. "Somethin' with Bruce Willis. Posters here are different so I can't tell."_

_"Oh," she says. She twists, looking back at Gi who waggles her fingers with a wide grin on her face. Linka rolls her eyes as she settles down next to him, turning her body inward. "Gi did that on purpose."_

_"Yep," he says, still distracted by his ardent candy organisation. "Sure did."_

_She smiles, running her fingers over the packets between them. "What are these?"_

_"No idea," he admits with a grin. "Lucky-dip. Hopin' it's chocolate."_

_"They are brown," she adds helpfully, peering at the packaging which gives no hint of what is contained within. She rips the packet open and pops a small brown ball into her mouth. Three chews later and she's looking for somewhere to dispose of it. She spits it into the ticket stub and places it into her handbag. "Ugh. It tastes like wet bread."_

_"Aw, shit." He sounds disappointed. "Was lookin forward to that."_

_She fiddles with the ends of her hair. "Wheeler?"_

_"Yeah?" he replies through a mouth full of popcorn._

_"When was the last time we saw Gaia?"_

_"Uh… shit. I dunno." He stops chewing, contemplating her question. Swallowing quickly, Wheeler narrows his eyes. "A month ago? Just after Kroi…"_

_"Do you not find it strange? That she is no longer selecting our missions or guiding us?" Linka rubs her forehead with the pad of her thumb, feeling unsettled. "She rarely shows her face at all any more."_

_"I just assumed she trusted us enough to make our own decisions."_

_"Maybe," she replies without much conviction._

_"Gotta be honest. Kinda miss seein' her big, scary head appearing out of nowhere."_

_"Wheeler!" Linka laughs, cupping her hand over her mouth to stem the giggles. "Eediot."_

_"Zatknis," he retorts with terrible pronunciation, and now she's giggling again. "Behave yourself, girl."_

_"I always behave myself!"_

_"Mmm hmm," he replies, tossing popcorn at her. "Sure."_

_Linka grins. She adjusts her skirt — pulling the hem primly over her knees and sighs happily, looking around the crowded theatre. "It is nice to get out. I was getting tired of hotel room walls."_

_"Cabin fever." His blue eyes are staring at the advertisements, but not really taking anything in. The sound of Gi's distinctive laughter can be heard behind them, amongst the chatter. Wheeler rubs a hand over his face and tilts his head towards Linka. "How're you doin'?"_

_"Fine," she answers, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he offers her the container, trying to get the taste of the mystery bread balls out of her mouth. "I am fine. I think I am getting another cold."_

_He gives her a withering look. "That's not what I meant."_

_"I know." Linka purses her lips. Her face reddens, aware that he's still watching her carefully. "I am fine, it is all in the past. It could have been a lot worse."_

_"Uh… yeah," he deadpans. "You contact the psychologist?"_

_"I have not had time, Yankee," she says, immediately feeling the need to justify herself. "How am I supposed to see —"_

_"Babe, they said you can book in phone calls," he responds, rolling his eyes. "I still think you should —"_

_"Do not tell me what to do, Wheeler," she sputters, indignant. "It was not you who —"_

_"I'm not tellin' you what to do, babe!" he says with a tinge of frustration. Wheeler shakes his head, turning to face her. "For God sakes, Lin. You had a pig-headed Ukrainian put his fuckin' hands on your body. I think you're more than entitled to —"_

_"And you broke Kroi's nose and shattered his jaw, Wheeler," she replies tersely. "That alone more than makes up for it."_

_"I'll break somethin' else if the fucker comes near you again.”_

_"Really, I am fine." She reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently in an effort to reassure him. "But I will make the call this week. All right?"_

_"Yeah. All right."_

_"Besides, I am not the only one who has run into trouble, lately." She sneaks a glance back at Gi, slumped down in her seat and talking to Ma-Ti. "Gi has certainly had a rough time lately."_

_"You mean Nigeria? Or when she got a little too familiar with her element last week?"_

_"Both."_

_"Good thing we're all CPR certified." Wheeler casts his eyes downwards. "Close call."_

_The advertisements have finished and the coming attractions are showing on the screen. She squeezes his hand again and smiles at him. "Happy birthday, Jake."_

_"Thanks, babe." He slings an arm across her shoulders, and she leans into him with a contented sigh. “_ _Can I ask you somethin'?"_

_She nods, a small smile curling her lips. Half expecting the same thing he's requested of her every birthday, usually delivered in a cheeky manner and always rebuffed — sometimes kindly but often not. "Go on."_

_He doesn't respond straight away, looking away and settling his blue eyes on the back of the chair in front. "You ever wondered if maybe we've done all we can? Maybe enough is enough?"_

_"What?"_ _She gazes back at him in shock. Definitely NOT what she was expecting. "Oh. Um… da. I mean, yes, eventually we will need to hang up our —"_

_"I don't mean eventually," he says. "I mean now."_

_"Are you serious?" She stares at him, aghast. "We… we are needed, Wheeler. There is still so much to do, I —"_

_"At what cost?" he asks quietly. The lights dim and the curtains draw back the full length of the screen, indicating that the feature is about to begin. He sighs. "Never mind."_

_Linka is deeply unsettled, however. She twists further in her seat, her back pressed against the cinema wall as the surround sound kicks in. Not ready to abandon the conversation, she grips the collar of his shirt, pulling him sideways to speak into his ear._

_"You are not thinking of leaving, are you?" There's a slight tremor in her voice and she hopes the opening credit music is drowning it out. "You would not leave us?"_

_He shrugs, and Linka recoils slightly. She swallows, still gripping the fabric covering his shoulder within her fist._

_"I… uh." She's lost for words. "What has brought this on?"_

_"What hasn't brought it on," he replies, his breath warm against her cheek. "Those assholes are gettin' more and more dangerous. They've gone from shakin' their fists at us to death threats, terrorism, attempted murder and sexual assault."_

_"He did not… Kroi did not get that far, Wheeler," she assures him again, squeezing him gently. "Honestly, I —"_

_"That's not the point, babe. What's to stop that fuckin' mongrel from doin' it again?"_

_"I will not wander off anymore!" She's almost pleading with him now, her mind still reeling. "I should have known better!"_

_"We've given nearly nine years of our lives to this. When do we stop? When someone's dead?"_

_"We… we just need to be careful, Yankee," she says, leaning over and touching his cheek. "We need to look out for each other. This is our life now."_

_"We have no life, babe," he says softly. He reaches forward, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Linka's ear. "We clock eighty hours a week on average. We haven't been home in six months. We're all dog-tired. Most twenty-five year olds are off partying and hookin' up. Enjoying life. Look at us?"_

_"Wheeler, you are not thinking of leaving us, are you?"_

_A lump is forming in her throat. A little shocked that she can bounce back relatively easily from the unpleasantness of the month before, but fall into an emotional heap at the mere mention of Wheeler walking away from them. She dashes a tear away, and the hurried gesture is not lost on him._

_"Oh geez, babe," he says, grabbing her hand. Wheeler seems to have cottoned onto the fact that she's upset. "Aw babe, I'm sorry. I dunno. Just thinkin' out loud, I guess."_

_She knows him better than that._

_"It is obviously on your mind," she says, sniffling quietly. Releasing his hand, she starts to turn her body away, shutting herself off. "Do what you need to do."_

_"Don't do that," he says, tightening his arm around her neck and pulling her back towards him. Her head drops onto his shoulder and he presses his mouth against her forehead. "Hey. C'mon, babe. I'm sorry."_

_"I thought you were going to ask for your birthday kiss," she blurts out, and he stares at her for a moment, his expression almost comical. He throws his head back and laughs._

_"Oh God, I'm three days late, anyway," he says, nuzzling her temple. "Lin, you were mauled by a Neanderthal with a low IQ and an alcohol problem. In all honesty, it didn't even cross my mind to bother."_

_"I just…" she says quietly. She drops her gaze, wiping her eyes and feeling embarrassed now. "You ask every year. I just assumed…"_

_"Yeah and I strike out every year," he chuckles good-naturedly, grabbing her bare legs and twisting them around until they're draped over his thighs. She adjusts her skirt and cuddles into his chest, tucking her feet inward to avoid prodding his neighbour. "Why? You reckon I've got a chance this year of turnin' around my losin' streak?"_

_"You have the same odds as any other year," she mumbles, and he laughs again, his fingers threading idly through her hair. His thumb grazes the delicate curve of her neck and it's pleasant weight and warmth causes her heart to maintain an erratic rhythm. She glances up at him; her nose bumping against the chiselled line of his jaw._

_"You will not leave us?"_

_"I'd leave them," he says, jacking his thumb towards Gi and the others behind them, who are aiming edible missiles in their direction. Wheeler leans back, pulling pieces of popcorn from her hair before caressing her cheek with his fingers. "I'd leave them. I wouldn't leave you."_

_"All right." She nods, closing her eyes at his gentle touch. His nose nuzzles her cheek fondly, and she can feel his breath warm and close against her skin._

_He grins suddenly. "You said somethin' about a birthday kiss?"_

_"I merely highlighted your annual tradition," she scoffs. "Besides, you were talking about leaving us five minutes ago, so —"_

_"Yeah, but that was before you offered to—"_

_"I did not offer you anything, Yankee," she sputters, her cheeks aflame. "I simply pointed out that you always —"_

_He grins, revelling in her discomfort. Tightening his hold around her neck, he tips her back without warning until she's wedged securely within the crook of his arm._

_The world seems to stop turning. Breath hitching in her throat, she closes her eyes as he presses his lips gently to hers. It's slow and languid, almost tentative, as if wanting to gauge her reaction._

_His free hand caresses her cheek, and she breathes a contented sigh against his mouth, fingernails digging into his shirt in an effort to ground herself._

_He draws back slightly, brushing his mouth against hers, teasing her in a way that leaves her utterly spellbound._

_She gives a soft whimper, unable to help herself, a little light-headed as their lips meet again._

_The last kiss is far too brief — almost chaste, but it leaves her breathless and wanting more. Nerves humming, body ultra-sensitive to each sweep of his hand and fingers and mouth. All she can focus on is the scent of his cologne and his warmth and his closeness._

_Everything else just fades away._

_A wolf whistle sounds over the car chase scene playing. Her heart is hammering away in her chest as they break apart. Still slumped at an odd angle, she quickly rights herself before turning her attention back to the screen._

_Linka runs her thumb over her lips, feeling pleasantly warm and tingly all over. His arm tightens around her again, the other resting casually over her lower thigh. She snuggles into him, hiding the side of her face against his chest as they settle to watch the movie._

_Not that she's paying the slightest bit of attention to it._

_She risks a glance over Wheeler's shoulder and even in the darkened room, she catches the others whispering to one another. She thinks Gi is giving her the thumbs-up sign._

_"Bozhe moy," she mumbles, feeling her face heating up further. "Pridurok."_

_"Just so you know," he says, his breath warm in her ear as a shiver runs through her. "You've fucked up my losin' streak now. I'll need to even it up."_

_"Do not push your luck, Yankee," she whispers, not trusting her voice. "That is all you are getting."_

_He shrugs. "Worth a try."_

_She smiles though as he nuzzles the corner of her mouth. "You do not stop, do you?"_

_"Take a bullet to stop me, babe."_

* * *

The plan had worked. Whilst some had remained indoors, the majority of Blight's museum dwellers had fled outside after the first explosion.

It was relatively quiet as they made their way inside. Through the service entrance, navigating the flame-lit office and administration areas and finally, spilling out into the grand foyer.

The team had split up into three groups once inside. In the end, she and Wheeler had decided to simply waltz in and play it cool. Pretending that they had a right to be there. Their faces and identifiable features were partially hidden — Linka's hair within the cap and Wheeler's flame-colored hair beneath the hoodie pulled over his head.

Linka was terrified. She clung to Wheeler's arm, keeping her head down and her ring hand clenched, ready if needed. Wheeler's performance was effortless — award worthy, really — going as far as to strike up a random conversation with a young girl with purple hair and glasses they'd run into.

He'd managed to glean some valuable information from the sarcastic valley girl, who they'd come exiting a bathroom with two others. Ripped jeans and a perpetually annoyed expression on her face, Wheeler had commented on the explosion and had casually thrown in a question on whether 'the boss' had been notified.

Their suspicions had been confirmed. The girl had rolled her eyes, stating that Blight hadn't been around for several weeks.  _Der._

The girl had shrugged, chatting to Wheeler for a few more minutes about tonight's meal, seemingly excited about it. She gave them a wave and lumbered off without a second glance.

"That's five minutes of my life I'm not gettin' back," Wheeler muttered under his breath.

"Maybe you should ask someone if Cap is here?" she whispered, clutching tightly to his hand as two men bustled past them. "They may know his location."

"If he's here at all," Wheeler said. "I'll wait for the opportunity. Don't wanna seem too interested."

They wandered around for ten minutes, not knowing where they were going but knowing they had to head downwards. A massive African Savannah Elephant greeted Linka as they stepped through into the African Mammal Hall.

An older woman bustled around them: a bucket of water and rags in her hands. Linka stepped aside as she scrubbed her way past, disappearing into another doorway.

The atmosphere was tense; coiled tightly like a spring and ready to release at a moments notice. Linka was unable to put her finger on it, but things here seemed ready to explode.

Loud shouts and jeers punctuated the air at regular intervals, sometimes echoing from other parts of the museum. Residents lingered around corners, congregating and talking idly in small groups. Some physical aggression could be noticed amongst them — pushing and shoving, almost some were asserting their dominance. A lot of swearing.

"This place is givin' me the creeps," Wheeler muttered and Linka squeezed his hand in response. She looked down, taking care to step over a young man slumped against the wall, seemingly unconscious.

" _Bozhe moy,_ " she breathed. Linka's skin was crawling with nerves and anxiety as she glanced around. "I cannot see any stairs. Maybe an indoor fire escape?"

They stopped at a large map of the museum affixed to the wall. Wheeler peered at it, running his finger along the floors as he tried to find access to the basement in the limited light provided. "Can't read this thing. Can you see the —"

A loud crash startled them. They whirled around, staring at a man sprawling head-first to the ground. A cane chair lay nearby and Linka's first thought was that he'd tripped over it. It soon became evident however that the truth was a little more ominous. Three men approached him, kicking the chair away as the fallen guy on the ground tried to scuttle away, his movements almost crab-like.

"Did you steal it?"

Linka shrunk back against Wheeler as the voice boomed, echoing sharply throughout the space.

"I… I didn't know —"

"Bullshit. Did you steal it?"

"I didn't know," he cried, backing himself up against a display cabinet filled with animal teeth. He looked left and right, eyes wide and panicked. "I though it was —"

"Not the first time, man," another voice rumbled as the apparent feet was dragged to his feet. A crowd had gathered and Linka's heart rate increased, clutching Wheeler's hand tightly as a short, overweight man approached, clutching a large carving knife. "You've been warned before."

The accused thief was dragged shrieking towards the centre of the exhibit area. His legs were kicked out from under him and he crashed heavily to the floor. He was quickly secured and held down by the other two men, extending the thief's arm outwards until it was stretched above his head.

"Shit," Wheeler hissed, eyes wide and mouth open. "Oh shit, shit, no way —"

The carving knife glinted in the firelight. Shouts and jeers issued from the onlookers. Linka raised her hand without thinking, knowing what was about to take place but Wheeler's hand closed over her own, lowering it just as quickly.

"Not our fight, babe," he said. He took another look at the sign before tugging her away, head down and avoiding looking at any of the excitable crowd surging around the shrieking man. "C'mon."

"Mob justice?" she whispered as he lead her towards the stairs. "We cannot just —"

"We have the advantage," he replied under his breath. "We need to keep it that way. They still don't know we're here."

With a final glance at the crowd behind them, they slipped away, heading through a maintenance door and descending into the bowels of the building just as the screaming started.

* * *

The basement level was cold and damp as they wandered through, keeping their eyes open for the others. In the end, they followed a lone woman into what seemed like an abandoned storage area.

Props from past museum exhibits laid abandoned and covered in dust, including empty cabinets, crates of bones, a towering moth-eaten woolly mammoth and a number of wax mannequins dressed in an odd assortment of costumes — standing around in a garish display in the corner.

The room was packed to the brim. They weaved their way through the props, intent on catching up with the dark-haired girl clutching a clipboard hurrying towards the back of the room.

"Shall we get her attention?" he asked in a low voice. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he strode forward, ignoring Linka's panicked attempts to pull him back. "Hey there!"

The girl froze, whirling around with a shocked look on her face. "Hey, no one's allowed down here!"

"Why?" Wheeler asked pleasantly. He passed around the piles of junk, and the girl skirted around him nervously, doing her best to keep distance between them. She kept her narrowed eyes glued on Wheeler who was distracted by an opening in the wall, just visible behind some exhibition signage. "Hidin' anything down here?"

"This is out of bounds," she said, her voice a little louder now that she had recovered from the shock. "You need to leave or I'll —"

"What's that?" he asked, approaching her slowly and pointing towards the darkness that stretched beyond. "What's down there?"

"I'm getting Lambert," she spat, stepping forward and shoving a cardboard box off the table and towards Wheeler. He deflected it with his arm and the contents went flying — colourful brochures launching into the air and raining down over him. The girl turned on her heels and sprinted back in the direction she'd come from.

Shit," Wheeler grunted. "Uh, babe?"

But Linka didn't need any additional prompting. "Wind!"

The resulting tornado picked the girl up and slammed her into the exhibition signage. She toppled to the floor and lay still where she'd landed.

"Geez, babe. I just wanted you to incapacitate her," Wheeler complained, scratching his head as his blue eyes settled on Clipboard Girl's feet sticking up in the air. "Not knock her out."

"Shut up, Yankee," she replied through gritted teeth. "I —"

A distant rumbling sound startled them. The ground suddenly shook and shifted, and Linka grabbed hold of a trolley to steady herself. Magazines and brochures crashed to the floor and the mannequins toppled over like dominoes.

The shockwaves rose in intensity and Linka hit the floor, unable to stand any longer. Glass smashing as the tremors from the quake proved too much for the display cabinets. Louder still and Wheeler was now on his hands and knees, scurrying towards Linka who had ducked under a table.

"What the hell —" Wheeler shouted over the top of the roar. Another loud crash as the wooly mammoth jigged and jostled across the floor on all four legs, before finally tipping headfirst onto the ground. It's tusks descended slowly towards the floor close to where Clipboard Girl had fallen. Linka raised her ring again, sending a gust of wind in the girl's direction, moving her out of the way in the nick of time.

The rumbling noise again, deep and mournful — almost human in quality — then it faded away to nothing. Linka regained her breath, peering out from beneath their hiding place. It was eerily quiet. She'd broken out in goosebumps at that God-awful sound, staring at the dark hole in the wall, knowing that the quake and resulting phenomenon had emanated from the direction of the tunnel beyond.

"Jesus."

Wheeler climbed out and extended his hand, helping to pull Linka to her feet. They stood hand-in-hand, staring in the direction of the blackness ahead. Wheeler tugged her forward and they disappeared inside.


	33. Chapter 33

_Plunder is holed-up within a small portable office set up at the front entrance of the construction site. He doesn't even bother fleeing with half of the workers — although their hasty escape is probably more to do with their immigration status rather than their involvement in Plunder's latest scheme._

_They find him seated within an ornate mahogany and leather chair. It doesn't quite fit with the decor of the temporary office structure, with it's faded paint and pock-marked walls. Plunder's eyebrows are raised, as if expecting their arrival. Elbows on the desk, fingers pinched into a steeple as he watches them file in._

_"Welcome," he says smoothly. "Can I help you?"_

_Linka crosses her arms, leaning against the wall as Kwame descends upon Plunder, staring him down._

_"Yes, I suspect you can," Kwame replies tersely. "Know anything about any nuclear warheads going missing from South Carolina?"_

_"No, not at all," he replies. "Why would I?"_

_"We have it on good authority you do," Wheeler says, dropping into the seat on the other side. He props his feet on the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles as he leans back. Plunder throws him a disapproving glare._

_He sniffs. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"_

_"Paper trail has your name written all over it," Kwame says._

_"You'll find nothing here," Plunder says. "Just a simple housing estate in progress. We have all the correct paperwork and building permits. Planning permission submitted last year. Everything's above board."_

_"Casa da Plunder," Wheeler mutters, and Linka watches as Gi turns away, stifling a wide grin. "Future residents expecting any bodies buried in the foundations?"_

_"No," Plunder snaps. "But who knows, there's always room for one, Pyro."_

_"So you wont mind us —"_

_"Yes, I do. Fuck off."_

_"Charming," Gi says under her breath._

_"Whatever. You have no legal jurisdiction here. Just a bunch of snot-nosed kids running under my feet as per usual —"_

_"Well, if you were conducting your businesses in an ethical manner, we wouldn't need to keep having these conversations," Kwame says. "Three missiles transferred from a secured site. We —"_

_"Oh, I'm sure you'll waste months tracking them down," he says. "Good luck with that, I'll —"_

_"Frames are lookin' good," Wheeler interrupts, gesturing outside. Plunder stares at him, confused by the rapid change in direction. "Look pretty solid, actually."_

_"Why the hell would I want your opinion?"_

_"I dunno." He flashes Plunder a wide grin, tapping his finger ever-so-gently against his ring. "You know timber's highly flammable?"_

_The mask of indifference slips. A flicker of intense hatred crosses Plunder's face, but just for a moment. The haughty disposition returns just as quickly, and he and Kwame are soon back to their verbal sparring._

_Linka turns away from the conversation, focusing on Ma-Ti. He's standing off to the side and hasn't said a word. Just watching the proceedings, thumbing his ring around his finger._

_She glances out the small window and spots Argos Bleak striding across her line of site, barking orders and flailing his hands. Another stocky figure appears behind him and Linka's breath catches as Andrei Kroi shoulder-barges Bleak out of the way. She ducks away from the window, hoping the Ukrainian is not heading her way._

_"You've got nothing on me. Anything else?"_

_Kwame frowns. "While we've got you here, a shipping container of automatic weapons disappeared off the manifest of a cargo ship last month. Know any —"_

_"Nope."_

_"Then you wont mind us checking things out?" Kwame says, folding his arms. "Since you have nothing to hide and all?"_

_"Again — fuck off," he replies. He grins suddenly as his eyes fall on Linka. "But if you're happy to compromise… I'm sure Kroi would be happy to escort your little blonde friend into our storage facility to look around. He'll be very thorough. Give her a good —"_

_Linka pales. Before she can reply, the chair Wheeler is seated within lurches loudly. The springs squeak as Wheeler extends his leg, casually knocking over an expensive-looking lamp with his sneaker. It falls to the floor, glass shattering._

_"Whoops," he says through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off Plunder. "Foot slipped."_

_"No matter." Plunder shrugs, winking at Linka and she tears her gaze away, flushing. "There's nothing here."_

_"Based upon past experience, we don't believe you," Gi says. "Those warheads are active. We've been asked to chase down their location as well as the launch codes. This could have massive implications, even for you. You're stupid if you don't think —"_

_"Spare me the lecture, brat," he sneers, leaning forward. "You don't think Blight has figured out a solution that will be mutually beneficial to us both? Blight's —"_

_"Blight's an idiot," Wheeler snaps. "You're just a pawn. She's using you."_

_"I have nothing to say to you god-damn planet punks," Plunder says dismissively, his voice a smooth drawl. "I answer to a higher god than your false blue idol."_

_Gi rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Money."_

_"So what?" he responds, tapping his fingers on the oak desk and reclining back in his chair. He regards the five Planeteers with a somewhat bored expression. He gestures towards them. "You, with your stupid fear-mongering and pathetic intentions. You're on the wrong side. There's a revolution coming. It's already started. You freaks will be begging —"_

_"God, can we gag him already?" Wheeler mutters. Linka watches as his foot slides ever-so-slowly towards an ivory statue and hovers beside it in a menacing fashion. Plunder eyes him nervously, sweat breaking out on his brow._

_Plunder leans forward, snatching the idol and moving it out of Wheeler's reach. "The tide is turning, my friends. Change is coming. Best to wake up and smell the coffee."_

_"You mean the gunpowder? Or the blood left on the streets due to Blight's program?"_

_"Don't care. Not my problem."_

_"It's going to get worse," Gi warns. "SAIP is —"_

_"SAIP is merely a tool. Opens up a lot of doors. Grants opportunities. Just gotta have the balls to use it."_

_"See now you've given me a mental picture," Wheeler complains. He shifts in the chair, aiming his ring at the armrest and burning a small hole into the timber. Plunder's face is turning redder by the minute, a direct result of Wheeler's shameless vandalism._

_"You have nothing to tie me to any of this." Plunder's eyes settle on Linka again. "No amount of digging from your little hacker will bring up my name in any SAIP-related transgressions. I'm squeaky-clean."_

_"We will stop it," Linka says softly. "Blight will not —"_

_"Silly little girl," he says softly, shaking his head. "She knows."_

_"What?"_

_"Blight knows you're working with them." He grins, leaning forward on his elbows and staring her down. "She's not a very happy mad scientist, if you catch my drift. Got a bone to pick with you, Blondie."_

_"I have not done anything," she begins, but her mouth is dry and goosebumps have broken out. "I —"_

_"Don't cross her," Plunder says. "She'll string you up by your toes and dance naked on your grave."_

_"Yeah, enough about your sex life, dude," Wheeler says, wrinkling his nose. "We really don't wanna —"_

_"Think you're funny, don't you, motor-mouth." Plunder's calm veneer is definitely slipping. "Won't be laughing when I'm laying back sipping manhattans on my own personal island while you little turds are —"_

_"Always had you pegged as a strawberry daiquiri kinda guy. Do they serve manhattans in prison?"_

_Plunder clenches his fists. "Cherries and all."_

_"There'll be a lot of overweight, balding inmates in minimum security lookin' to pop your cherry." Wheeler leans back, hands folded behind his neck and grinning widely. "You'll be in good company."_

_Linka can see veins practically standing out in Plunders forehead. "I'll never see the inside of a prison cell, you little —"_

_"Sure you will," Wheeler replies. "Look up the word ineptitude in the dictionary and your fat, ugly head will be front and centre. Only a matter of time, dickhead."_

_Plunder staggers to his feet, knocking his chair over. He strides across the room and bears down on Wheeler who's still seated. He barely flinches, returning Plunder's angry glare._

_"I look forward to the day when I can —"_

_"Employ a personal stylist?" Wheeler replies coolly. Linka wraps her arms around herself, holding her breath and waiting for Plunder to explode. The fire Planeteer reaches out, flicking the lapel of Plunder's suit. "The 1970's called. They want their suit back."_

_Plunder narrows his eyes, jabbing Wheeler in the chest with his index finger. "One day, you're going to come to a sticky end, my friend."_

_"You have me quakin' in my boots, asshole."_

_Plunder steps back. He straightens, composing himself before turning and giving the Planeteers a dismissive wave. "We're done here."_

_He wrenches the door open and strides out, hurrying down the ramp. Gi and Kwame follow, continuing to pepper Plunder with questions and their voices soon fade, replaced by hammering and power tools being used in the distance._

_Relief floods through her. Wheeler gives her a small smile. He's sitt_ i _ng quietly; hair tousled across his forehead, and his blue eyes are watching the distant figures out the window._

_"Yeah," he chuckles. "Don't think he likes me much."_

_"You took it too far," Linka said softly, still pale from the tense altercation. "Wheeler, I thought he was going to —"_

_"What choice do we have, babe?" He shrugs, leaning back in the chair again and glancing at Ma-Ti. "Ma-Ti needs to poke around his head. It's always me who draws the short straw."_

_"Wheeler, you have a natural talent for pissing people off," Ma-Ti says with a wry smile. "We do not even require a straw. You always get me the best results."_

_"There has to be a better way," Linka pleads. "Gaining access to Plunder's thoughts should not this —"_

_"Plunder lacks empathy. He has no moral compass. I cannot gain access unless he is annoyed or enraged. Wheeler never fails to get a reaction." Ma-Ti smiles. "The lamp was a nice touch, though."_

_"You liked that?" Wheeler grins, chuckling. "I improvised. Was it worth it? Did you get anything?"_

_"He knows nothing about the warheads, but the guns and ammunition are a whole other story. They're in Italy. He sold them to a man from Naples. A 'Mr Giordano'. Definitely a mafia connection."_

_"My work here is done." Wheeler cracks his knuckles and winks at Linka. "Whaddya say we high-tail it outta here before Loopy Looten sets the dogs on us."_

_"Wouldn't be the first time," Ma-Ti mutters._

_Linka's eyes flick towards the window again. The job-sites opposite are still bustling despite the late hour. Electric saws, cement mixers. Pallets of bricks are being craned in and one of the slabs has a roof-frame being erected._

_Amongst the employees remaining, she glimpses Kroi's figure again. Wide shoulders and heavily muscled, he's an intimidating figure. The workers are giving him a wide berth, as if expecting him to lash out at a moments notice._

_"Guy needs to lay of the 'roids."_

_Ma-Ti has already left, and Wheeler is now behind her. She leans back against him, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her affectionately._

_"What are 'roys'?" she asks, turning and peering up at him curiously._

_"Oh God, babe," he says, laughing. "Steroids. Kroi's poppin' em like skittles by the look of it. Also explains the rest of his… bad habits."_

_"Oh."_

_He rubs her shoulders, turning and guiding her towards the door. "C'mon."_

_They head out the screen door and down the ramp hand in hand, their arms swinging idly. Gi and Ma-Ti are already waiting by the Geo Cruiser. Dusk is truly upon them — shades of orange and pink are casting a pretty glow over the landscape._

_Wheeler ducks inside to start the pre-flight checks and Ma-Ti follows, leaving the girls perched on the wing. Linka leans forward, swinging her legs idly as Gi turns to face her._

_"Chinese?"_

_"Nyet. I feel like Thai."_

_Gi shrugs. "I think it's Kwame's turn to choose anyway."_

_"He always chooses Indian." Linka wrinkles her nose. "Too spicy for me."_

_"Sandwich?"_

_She nods, her eyes following Argos Bleak over by a flatbed truck. Bleak stands with his arms folded against his chest, shouldering the brunt of Plunder's anger. She can't hear the specifics of what is going down, but Plunder is furious about something._

_He's up in Bleak's face, finger jabbing and they're practically nose to nose. Bleak isn't backing down, but he isn't engaging either. Just staring back sullenly at his employer as the verbal lashing continues._

_She raises her eyebrows as Plunder finally shoves the mercenary and stalks away towards Kroi._

_"Trouble in paradise?" The altercation hasn't passed Gi's attention either. "That was weird."_

_"Da," she replies._

_Kwame is walking back towards them with a pissed-off expression on his face. He hauls himself up and ushers the girls inside._

_"I am growing weary of all this," he mutters, dropping into the co-pilot seat beside Wheeler._

_Linka takes her seat, clicking her belt into place and crossing her legs. As the Geo-Cruiser powers up, she glances out the window again, watching the back of Bleak's retreating figure — shoulders hunched and disappearing into one of the big rigs parked off site._

* * *

The tunnel was stifling. Unnaturally hot. Linka wiped sweat from her brow as she stumbled onward, using the roughened walls to guide her way through the darkness. A faint light was visible in the distance as they walked, the ground sloping downward in a steep manner.

"They've dug this out themselves."

Wheeler's voice was barely a whisper. He was tense — had barely said a word since they had departed the basement.

Something didn't feel right. Walking into the black gaping hole of death was certainly enough to cause Linka undue anxiety, but there were a lot of details that weren't adding up.

Their journey so far had been far too easy.

"It is like a mining tunnel," she whispered, raising the flame and studying the etches and grooves surrounding them. "Why would they —?"

"Buried somethin' down here?" he said. "I … oh fuck!"

"What?" she gasped, flattening herself against the wall and raising her ring wildly.

"Tripped," his voice uttered quietly. "Sorry."

"I nearly set off a tornado," she hissed, rolling her eyes. "Did you notice that the noise and shaking happened after I used my ring both times?"

"Yeah," he said. "Don't think it's a coincidence."

"Do you think he's here?"

"Yeah," he said. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Do you think Bl —"

Wheeler stopped, gripping her hand tighter. "Can you hear that?"

"I do not hear anything?"

"Wait, I —" He spun around and she was tugged along with him with a soft huff. "Someone's —"

A sudden rush of air passed by them. A groan. Scuffling noises and the sound of a struggle as Wheeler's hand was ripped forcibly from hers.

"Wheeler!" she cried, whirling around. A hand shot out of nowhere and gripped her wrist painfully but she wrenched herself free.

"Wind!"

She heard the thud as someone's body impacted upon the walls and slumped heavily to the ground. Something clattered to the floor by her feet. She crouched down, reaching around blindly as that awful noise echoed through the passage again, followed by more tremors beneath her feet. She fell onto her bottom, scuttling backwards until her back was against the wall.

Looking up, the light they'd been heading towards was partially blocked. Two shapes dragging a third shape away, and she instinctively knew that they now had Wheeler.

She moaned, blinking back tears. Terrified. Knowing that a showdown had always been inevitable, but not prepared in the least for what she assumed was coming.

She sensed another presence close by, but the adrenaline had kicked in and this time she was ready. A shape bore down on her and she launched a high-kick to the unsuspecting attacker legs. She heard the groan of pain and she used her ring again to send them flying through the air.

Heart in her mouth, Linka scrambled to her feet and stumbled onwards, still unable to see much but knowing Wheeler was restrained somewhere ahead.

The tunnel walls gained greater definition as the light came into view. A small lantern lay fixed in front of her at the end of the tunnel and there were three shapes illuminated in front of it's steady glow. They turned and lumbered off to the right, disappearing.

Her thick hair was plastered to her face and she was terrified by the thought of what awaited her, but she forced herself onward — her fear for Wheeler's welfare overtaking everything else. She reached the lantern and slowed again, peeking around the corner the bulky shapes had disappeared towards.

A crater-like lair was evident within, burrowed out of the earth and the size of a small house. The heat was oppressive, like standing in front of a furnace on full blast. She stuck close to the walls, stepping carefully over rock and debris and perching herself on the edge of the cavity.

A narrow man-made walkway wrapped itself around the depression and she clenched her fist, spotting Wheeler perched precariously on the edge. He was struggling against his captors, each of them holding an arm. They jostled about; Wheeler's sneakers scuffing the dirt and coming uncomfortably close to the drop.

"So hard to find good help these days, isn't it?" The voice came from her left and she gasped as John Lambert stepped forward, giving her a mercurial wave. "Want something done, gotta do it yourself."

He dropped down into a sitting position and pushed himself off the edge. Lambert slid down swiftly, coming to a stop at the base of the crater. He motioned towards Wheeler's captors and they nodded in response.

Linka screamed as Wheeler was shoved off the edge. He toppled forward, tumbling head-first down the steep walls.

"Wind!"

She gathered him up before he hit the bottom, able to slow his downward momentum. Lambert watched his body slide to a stop. The earth shook again and he threw his hands out to maintain balance. Linka didn't hesitate — taking advantage of his distraction.

Using her ring, she took out Wheeler's captors still standing on the edge and jumped off the cliff-face, landing in a cloud of dust and debris courtesy of the mini tornado she'd landed herself with.

She strode forward, ring outstretched and temper now boiling over but Lambert grinned. She halted, spotting the gun clutched in his hand that was now pressed against Wheeler's temple. She let out a shaky sigh, knowing how the situation had played out the last time a gun had been involved.

He shook his head slowly, still smiling. "Hello again."

Footsteps and voices above her. At least thirty people had filed in, taking position around the edge they'd just descended from. She swallowed the panic. The futility of her situation was apparent. The hopelessness.

If she was going down, she'd take as many of them with her as possible. She glanced around, searching for Captain Planet but there was no sign of his presence.

"You're a hard woman to track down," Lambert called, dropping to his knees and tightening his grip on Wheeler's neck. "Hot enough for ya?"

"Could be hotter," Linka called back, her voice sounding much stronger than she felt. "Is this your idea of thermal heating?"

Lambert shrugged. "No idea. Unexpected side effect."

"Of what?"

"Of the body we buried down here."

"Body?" Linka frowned, eyes scanning the area for evidence of a grave. She found nothing but dust and rocky outcrops dotting the crater.

"Yep. Body," he replied leisurely. "Mind you, this area started out a lot smaller. Rock has been melting away for the past couple of years, now. Not sure whether it's from him or the nuclear waste he was buried with."

"All right," she uttered nervously. Her eyes settled on Wheeler. He was bleeding from the forehead but staying quiet, wincing in pain.

_Hand._

The voice startled her. It was clear as day.

"So we have a problem."

She swallowed again. "And what would that be?"

"I'm under strict instructions. Gotta bring you and your buddies to Nevada, but there's a little job I need you to do first…"

" _Da_ ," she said. "I know what you want."

_Touch._

The voice again. She flinched, searching her surroundings but unable to identify the source.

"So how do you do it?" Lambert asked. "He was stuck here after you died. You're back now. You're the key. He needs wind. You'll obviously need to return him to the earth. Boss wants you all to then recombine your powers later on in Nevada."

"I do not know," she uttered softly. "I am as in the dark as you are."

The safety clicked off and Lambert shook his head, fingering the trigger. "Don't believe you."

"Your mad scientist killed me in this time and my element died with me. You are simply borrowing mine. We have never had our elements split in that way." She licked her lips nervously. "I am unsure…"

"Don't believe you," he repeated, tapping the muzzle of the gun against Wheeler's ear and finally addressing him. "And where the fuck have you been, Jake Wheeler? You disappeared off the face off the earth, apparently. Blight's very interested in what your movements have been over the past few years."

"Travellin' circus," Wheeler grunted, and Linka cried out as the barrel struck him across the forehead. He slumped forward and Linka let out a frightened moan.

She stepped forward but Lambert shook his head again. "Be smart. We've got your Earth buddy upstairs, already bagged and tagged for the journey to Vegas."

She closed her eyes, realising with dread they had Kwame. "I do not know how you expect me to—"

"Set the blue guy free. Return him to the earth… or wherever the fuck he's meant to go." He grinned. "We'll take care of the rest."

_Find._

"Captain Planet would choose to return when he needed to. We had no input when it came to that," she pleaded, eyes still tracking the area for the disembodied voice. "Only then would our powers come back to us. I do not even —"

"Try."

She wiped her brow feeling the sweat pouring off her. "I don't… where was he buried?"

Lambert gestured towards the middle of the crater. Linka shook her head in confusion, seeing only a couple of raised mountains of bedrock. "I don't —"

"Losin' my patience, " he said threateningly. "Try."

_Feel._

She shook her head slightly, dazed as she approached the center and raised her ring. Her feet scuffed through the crumbling earth and she halted near a rocky outcrop, jagged and protruding at an odd angle. She sighed heavily, clueless as to the process she was supposed to be undertaking.

In all honesty, she'd half expected her presence alone (and element) would have been enough to re-awaken him, if needed. If he was even here. But to her bitter disappointment, this was obviously not the case.

What Lambert was asking of her was unprecedented. If Cap could have returned, he already would have done so already. It occurred to her that maybe Captain Planet was gone. Past the point of saving, but she pushed the dire implications to the back of her mind.

She didn't know how to proceed, but Lambert wasn't in the mood to listen.

"Wind," she whispered, sending out a small gust. Willing him forward, focusing her power and her energy.

She didn't know what else to do.

The resulting dust settled but the tremors returned. The earth shook and Linka crashed to her knees, looking around wildly as a high-pitched keen rent the air. She sobbed, holding her hands over her ears as the ground cracked and fissured around her. A few onlookers above lost their footing and slipped and she watched their ungraceful descent, crashing to the crater floor and remaining still.

But the phenomenon soon subsided. Nothing had changed. No beams. No additional presences.

"What else can I do?" she cried, raising her eyes to Lambert's as more of Blight's museum dwellers began to join him. She remained where she was, hanging her head in defeat. She pushed her hair out of her face, pleading, trying to make him understand. "I don't know what else I can do!"

"Pity," he said softly. "Fine."

Her eyes swept over Wheeler as he was dragged to his feet by several pairs of hands. His eyes were wide open now, locked on something behind her. A hand was clamped over Wheeler's mouth as he was dragged away, screaming against Lambert's palm.

"Wheeler!" she cried.

He looked panicked, and Linka stumbled to her feet, sending another gust of wind towards them. They tumbled over like bowling pins and Wheeler's voice was suddenly clear as he bellowed a name at the top of his lungs — a name that caused her heart to twist and drop into the depths of her stomach.

She whirled around and hit what could only be described as a Ukranian brick wall. Crew cut, filthy and with a murderous glint in his eye, Andrei Kroi was several years older but infinitely more intimidating than she recalled in either her dreams, or her very first meeting with him at Blight's compound.

He'd lost some body-weight but his physique was still impressive, to say the least. Scar tissue dotted his face, and his neck and arms were covered in poorly-inked tattoos.

Kroi's hand gripped her wrist, wrenching it up over her head and causing her toes to momentarily leave the ground. The other hand grabbed her around the neck and she was flung to the ground in a cloud of dust. She could hear Wheeler screaming her name as she tried to claw Kroi's hand from her neck.

Linka shrieked, fighting back as her other arm was pinned above her head. She retaliated with the only limb still left at her disposal, launching her knee into his groin with devastating accuracy. Wriggling free, she kicked him in the ribs, noting with dismay that others were now approaching. She scuttled to her feet and ran, legs pumping.

Wheeler was no longer in her line of sight.

_Contact._

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" she cried out, eyes wide as she searched for the owner of the voice. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

Nothing was making sense. The voice was deep, but she had the sense that it was female in origin — which confused her even further.

_Connect._

She dodged Kroi's lumbering form and streaked towards the center of the crater, sending a gust of wind towards two men approaching her with a large hessian bag. Her feet were suddenly kicked out from underneath her and she crashed to the ground, sobbing in pain.

Hands clawing the earth, she spotted the rocky outcrop and dragged herself towards it, desperate for something to latch onto. Something to anchor herself to.

_Reach._

She choked, inhaling sediment into her lungs as Kroi's hands gripped her ankles. Another gust of wind gave her a few seconds reprieve as her fingertips reached for the jagged arrangement of rock. More tremors. Another unearthly scream echoing around her.

_Now._

A coughing fit tore through her as she dragged herself forward, kicking and flailing in desperation but her attempts were thwarted. Kroi kept dragging her back.

She was drenched in perspiration. It was dripping down into her eyes and she blinked, unsure if the sweat was obscuring her vision — or that perhaps the smattering of rock she was holding onto for dear life showed a fist-sized globe insignia at the base.

That the jagged protrusions resembled limbs and perhaps the formation could be construed as someone lying in a foetal position. Turned to stone. Course and roughened. Abused and weakened, transformed into the pitiable state she saw before her.

_Linka._

Finally she understood. A flare of hope pulsed through her. It was small, but it was tangible and she latched on to that hope with every fiber left of her being.

_Now._

With a bellow of suppressed rage, she kicked away from Kroi and made a final lunge, slamming her hand over the globe insignia.

She screamed as the ground rumbled beneath her. Four bright lights escaped outwards and she was enveloped; first in crushing stone, followed by a thick, complete blackness.

A sensation of rapid decent.

And then nothing.


	34. Chapter 34

_The carpet is worn. Threadbare. She swings her legs back and forth, scuffing the tips of her high heels along the carpet. There's hushed murmurs around her but she's not really listening. Typical waiting room conversations._

_She leans back, crossing her legs and glancing down at the lace dress she's wearing. It's beautiful. Really stunning — and she doesn't recognise it. Her hands pass over the material as she frowns, wondering when on earth she purchased it. It looks to be expensive. Crisp white in colour, with a sweetheart neckline. It tucks in at the waist and flares out to just above her knees. She fiddles with the fabric for a while, content to play with the satin lining beneath the lace._

_There's an abstract painting on the wall opposite. Round canvas, with pinks, blues and teals in deep, swirling brush-strokes. There's a strong sense of deja-vu. She's seen it before; racking her brain to recall where._

_The door jingles and someone walks in. It's a media analyst they've worked closely with over the years. She raises her hand in greeting but the words die on her lips. The new addition turns in Linka's direction and her hand wilts in the air. It's not who she thinks it is._

_She bites down on her thumb, eyes scanning the waiting room. She can't quite put her finger on it. There's a strange atmosphere here. The air seems hazy and the movements of the people around her are almost sluggish. It's hard to focus._

_She sighs, distracting herself with the goldfish across the room. They're housed within an impressive-looking aquarium running along the base of the front counter. She could have sworn it wasn't there when she entered._

_Come to think of it, she doesn't remember entering at all._

_She doesn't recall where she is or why she's here._

_Linka stands quickly, disorientated and something slides off her lap, bouncing onto the ground. She crouches down, fumbling blindly under the chair; patting the carpet until she finds what she's looking for. There's a small object wedged between the chair leg and the wall. Fingers grasping, she pulls out what looks like a novelty ring. Grey plastic with a pink stone sticking out of the top._

_She holds it up to her face, confused. She recognises it — but doesn't remember taking it out of her jewellery box. Slipping it into the pocket of her dress_ (did my dress have pockets?) _she approaches the front counter. There's two computers, and a bored receptionist is seated between them. Medical files are piled up and there's a separate room off to the right where another woman is bustling around._

_The distant shrill of a telephone sounds and the lady at the desk answers it. Even though Linka is standing right in front of her, the voice seem muted and distorted to her ears, like hearing a conversation while underwater._

_Realisation dawns on her. She's in a doctors' surgery._

_A curtained-off area is visible in the nurses station and large cabinets are lined up against the wall opposite, no doubt filled with syringes, bandages and other medical paraphernalia._

_Palms flat on the counter, she leans forward, intending to ask the receptionist a question but the woman has disappeared. The pile of files is now three times the size it was before. The computer screen is just visible but the monitor is hollowed out. Empty. Plastic cups and trash are stuffed inside._

_She spins around, leaning back against the counter, completely bewildered_ _. Wondering if she's eaten something weird. Hallucinating, or as the Yankee would call it, "tripping"._

_There's a vending machine over in the corner. A coffee table stacked with magazines in the centre of the room. A tower fan is whirring quietly nearby, moving side to side but the rotors aren't producing any air._

_Scratching her head in confusion, she spends a few moments taking in the strangeness of her surroundings._

_The round artwork with the pretty colours is gone, replaced by a set of three rectangular canvases. Each canvas has a different coloured pill painted on a fluorescent background. Almost like an Andy Warhol retrospective, except with overtones of Bliss._

_Linka rubs her eyes blearily. She steps away from the counter, backing up and hitting the wall. No one here seems to have even noticed Linka's presence. They stare without seeing, going about their business. Oblivious._

_A door opens nearby and an elderly man exits one of the specialist suites, laughing and thanking the doctor. He's dressed in a tweed suit and matching cap that looks like it's come out of a 1960's sitcom._

_The lunacy of the situation is apparent. Linka steps aside as a woman bustles past, spray bottle in her hand. She's cleaning the surfaces but the liquid exiting the nozzle is bright red. Linka watches on in shock as the cleaner wipes her cloth over the counter and windows, smearing crimson streaks over everything._

_The bell on the front door tolls again and Linka drags her eyes away from the bloody cleaning effort. Three figures have filed inside the waiting room. A woman shakes her umbrella and props it against the door. She pushes a pram with one hand and ushers in a little girl with the other._

_Wavy brown hair cut to her shoulders, red lips and a creamy complexion, the scent of perfume wafts past Linka as the woman approaches the counter with her children in tow. The receptionist has magically appeared again. The brunette smiles at the receptionist, talking in warm tones but Linka's attention is elsewhere. She glances down at the little girl._

_Blonde hair in a neat pony tail with a smear of chocolate stretching across her cheek. Button nose, clear, green eyes. Clad in a denim dress with pink buttons and black patent shoes, the child peers up at Linka curiously._

_She's holding a tattered Cheburashka stuffed toy — the monkey-type character from the very books Linka's mother used to read her during her own childhood._

_"Bozhe moy," Linka breathes, and the little girl_ (Hannah, oh God it's Hannah) _seems startled, eyes wide and staring. The little girl tugs free from her mothers hand and approaches Linka, clutching the animal within her fingers. She extends her hand and offers the doll to Linka, smiling._

_Linka is stunned — and a little emotional. She grins, wiping tears away and suddenly recalling her own mother's face in startling clarity. It's been nearly twenty years but the pain is still raw and Linka is hit by a sudden surge of grief._

_Hindsight is an awful thing. She stares at this little family going about their business. Linka knows who they are, aware that this little girl and her brother lost their mother at roughly the same age Linka lost her own. She wipes her eyes and shudders. Life can be horribly unjust. History has indeed repeated itself in the worst way possible._

_Linka crouches down, reaching out towards the toy Hannah is offering but they're already gone. The mother is tugging her young charge towards the hallway, still pushing the pram one-handed. They disappear and Linka hurries after them._

_She's practically running to catch up, twisting and winding through endless corridors. The layout of this place resembles a rabbit warren rather than a medical establishment. Each corner she turns, she catches the swish of the little girl's dress, or the spindly wheels of the pram the dark-haired version of herself is pushing. She can't catch up._

_She's out of breath now. She rounds another corner and the little girl's dress disappears behind a door that closes softly behind her. The faint sound of a baby crying… then nothing._

_Surging forward, she reaches for the door knob and twists, half stumbling as the door swings open from the other side. She falls through the opening and crashes to the floor with a yelp._

_She rolls onto her back and pushes herself up quickly, legs tucked up beneath her as she catches her breath._

_She's in a small consultation room. There's no sign of her future self or the children, but she's not alone. A timber desk sits in the centre of the room and a woman is seated within a chair on the other side. She's old. Olive, wrinkled skin and dark hair bound into a loose bun._

_There's a pencil through the centre._

_The stranger is dressed in a doctor's lab-coat and she's smiling, blue eyes sparkling. A mixture of pride and happiness._

_Linka's wraps her arms around her knees, open-mouthed as the woman stands — skirting the desk and approaching her slowly. Linka scurries back, staring at the woman as she crouches down in front of her._

_The face is withered but the eyes — the eyes are the same. Radiating the same kindness, warmth and compassion they always had. She blinks up at her in disbelief._

_"Gaia?"_

_"Hello Linka," the old woman says softly, extending her hand and cupping Linka's cheek. "Glad you could make it."_

_"Oh God, Gaia?"_

_She starts to cry as Gaia's arms envelop her. She breaks down, squirming closer and glad that even in this state — even in this realm — Gaia is blessedly solid and capable of giving much-needed comfort._

_Linka glances down and the pretty dress is gone. She's clad in Grace's old jeans and t-shirt again — she's dirty, dusty and her skin is scratched and bruised — hair plastered across her face, stuck to her skin courtesy of the heat and moisture._

_So hot. He's not here, I can't find him. Or did I? Oh God, there are so many. Lambert. Kroi. Oh God, Kroi is — I can't get to him._ They took them. They took him —

"Oh God, Wheeler!" she gasped, moving to stand but Gaia shook her head. "I have to get back, they have them both —"

"Linka, Wheeler is fine." Gaia gripped her arm and helped her up, guiding her towards an armchair — one that has also magically appeared out of nowhere. "Honestly. The elements have all been returned. Wheeler was able to use his power."

"How do you know," she cried, trembling as she eyed the door nervously. "They took him away, Lambert might have taken —"

"They removed the wrong ring. Wheeler had two in his possession. They took the one around his neck," Gaia explained, gesturing towards Linka's ring on her finger. "They were unaware of the fire ring still in his pocket."

"Are you sure," she gasped, slumping in the seat and looking around wildly. "Is he all right?"

"Yes," she laughed, taking a seat opposite Linka. "Took his captors by surprise, let me tell you."

"Did Wheeler get her… my other ring back?"

"Yes."

"What about Kwame?" she whispered.

Gaia shook her head. "His power has returned, but he is no longer in possession of it."

"Is he all right?"

Gaia shrugged. "I'm afraid that's now beyond my reach. What little I sensed was due to your proximity to Captain Planet. But they need him alive, and Kwame is as resilient as they come."

"Oh," she said, sitting stiffly within the chair. Her nerves were shot, hands trembling. "Oh, the museum. That was frightening."

"I know." Gaia smiled fondly at her, pressing a button on her desk and sending a hushed instruction into the speaker box. She sat back and Linka clenched her hands in her lap, aware that the Earth Sprit didn't appear to be in any particular hurry.

"Do I have time to be here," she wondered aloud.

"Yes. Wheeler was carrying you out around the time I lost vision."

"So I am not really sitting here?"

"No."

"Where am I, then?"

"Now?"

" _Da_ ," she said, gesturing around her. "What is this place? Where are we?"

Gaia chuckled. "You're here."

Linka rolled her eyes. " _Bozhe moy,_ Gaia. Really?"

"Some things never change," she laughed. "You still have an insatiable thirst for knowledge."

"It appears that knowledge did not serve me well in this future," she sighed, and Gaia gave her a sympathetic smile. "It did not get me very far."

"I guess not," she said kindly. "You've had quite a journey, haven't you."

Linka bit her lip and nodded.

"It was always going to be risky. Dangerous. But I've brought you here because it was the only way to speak to you in person. There's a lot you must know before returning. Do you understand?"

" _Da_ ," she said huskily. "I —"

A noise of jingling cups came from outside. Gaia looked over Linka's shoulder as the door behind her opened. "Ah, right on time. Tea?"

Another figure bustled inside with a tray and a fancy pot. A man wearing a fedora hat and a very prominent Hawaiian shirt approached, hunched over. His face was hidden from her view. Regardless of her inability to catch a glimpse of him, Linka had the distinct feeling that the man was smiling.

"Forgot the biscuits," he said airily. "Be right back."

"Um… all right," Linka replied, staring at the man's retreating figure as she tried — and failed — to get a look at his face. He disappeared out the door again. "Who is —"

"You developed a taste for tea and biscuits while living in the United Kingdom," Gaia said, pouring Linka a steaming drink. "A very English trait."

"You watched over us?" Linka asked, gripping the fine china in her hands and smiling her thanks. "You could still see us?"

"Couldn't see enough, it would seem," Gaia said sadly. "I could observe but my physical hold on the earth was gone. I'd been recalled years before, but I dragged my proverbial feet, so to speak."

"You refused to leave?"

"My superiors had given up on humans. All I could do was look in on you all from time to time. Just glimpses, really."

"That would have been difficult for you."

Gaia shook her head. "Not as difficult as watching the scene play out on that rainy day in Essex three years ago, Linka."

"You saw it happen? Saw me die?"

"Yes." Gaia's face hardened for a moment. "It shouldn't have happened. I was supposed to remain impartial. Detached. Do my job. Keep order and balance, but what Blight did to you that day…"

"It was the beginning of the end."

"The chain reaction was already in progress. The wheels were already turning. I failed." She raised her chin and Linka saw a fierce determination there. "But I'm making amends."

"We can still set things right in my past, Gaia," she said gently. "It has already —"

"You may be able to help set things right here, in this future you've found yourself in too, Linka."

Linka sat up straighter, balancing the mug on her lap. "How?"

The door opened again and the man returned. He shuffled inside, a tray gripped in both hands with an assortment of delicious European-style cream biscuits. Her mouth watered and she reached for one eagerly.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," the man replied with a wink and she could see his face now. She made a small noise, delighted to see him. The features were the same but the skin was no longer blue, but with pale, even skin-tones. Captain Planet could pass for human, here. "May as well eat up, Linka. You'll be back to scraps tomorrow."

"Yes, but am I technically eating this?" she replied with a grin as he ruffled her hair affectionately. "Apparently I am not here. This is not real."

"No, you're not here." Captain Planet shrugged, sinking into a second chair that had materialised, also out of thin air. "Doesn't mean it's not real. More biscuits?"

Linka nodded, reaching for another. As much as she was enjoying tea and biscuits with her former employer and resident superhero, there were more pressing matters at hand. "All right. What now?"

"Blight's lab."

" _Da_ ," she said, wrinkling her nose. She glanced at Cap. "What about you? Have you returned to the earth?"

"Yes. I've been released. My body is recuperating, but I'm in a severely depleted state," Captain Planet said. "The heat down there you experienced was due to my illness. An infection, if you will."

"Why could you not return to the earth when I was first brought here?"

"When you died, control of your element died with you. I was grounded. Stuck in limbo. My body started to simply meld with the materials I was thrown into. I could feel the wind element's return as soon as your feet first touched the earth here, though. I also sensed your presence once you entered the museum and used your ring."

"We heard and felt it," she said, recalling the ground quaking. "But I still don't understand —"

"I was half-in and half-out of both realms. There'd been a split of the elements. I needed a physical reconnection with a wind bearer to reactivate."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Didn't have to whack me so hard, though," Captain Planet grinned, rubbing his chest and giving her a look of mock indignation. "Hurt, you know."

"I had a violent Ukrainian on my heels," she muttered, sipping her tea again. "Speaking of which… I have been dreaming. A lot. Is this meant to happen?"

"Everyone dreams, Linka," Gaia replied but raised her hand as Linka moved to interrupt. "But I assumed there might be a possibility of this happening."

"Why am I gaining her memories?"

Gaia smiled at her. "You both share the same soul. You are effectively the same person. Your memories are merging. It is inevitable that if you are here long enough, her memories will become  _your_  memories."

"They started suddenly, I was not prepared for —"

"Your mind had to be clear and free to receive them," Gaia explained. "When did the dreams start?"

She frowned, already knowing the answer. "Around the time I found out about Wheeler," she muttered, choosing to ignore the bemused expressions in front of her. She pulled her hair back and settled into her seat. "I guess I was a little stressed until then."

"You married a fellow ring-bearer," Captain Planet mused and Linka blushed red, rubbing her face self-consciously. "Bet that was a shock for you."

" _Da_ ," she admitted. "I am still coming to terms with it. Will I recall everything?"

"Just the main events from your life. The memories she held dear, or the traumatic ones. The ones clearest in her mind."

"Are the dreams only happening to me?"

"No. It will be happening to whomever travelled through the portal with you."

"Bleak hasn't mentioned anything."

"Do you think Argos Bleak would tell you regardless," Captain Planet said, eyebrows raised. "The man is not exactly a conversationalist."

"True," she admitted. "I have to admit, he is growing on me. Like a fungus."

Gaia leaned forward, clasping her hands. "He's been useful, then?"

She nodded. " _Da_. I do not think I would have made it this far without his help."

"Really?" she said, sweeping her eyes over Linka's face. "You might be interested to know that it's not the first time Argos Bleak has proved useful to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Argos Bleak was your guardian angel towards the end of the Planeteers. Even the others weren't aware of this."

She stared at Gaia, unsure what she meant. "I don't —"

"Why do you think the CIA moved so quickly to get you out? They were notified of a credible threat received from a reliable source."

"What? Did Bleak —"

"MAL was destroyed. In the weeks that followed, someone phoned in several anonymous tips about a contract on your head. A bounty. A plan was underway. Andrei Kroi was planning on collecting."

"What?" she gasped, her face paling. "You mean —"

Gaia nodded. "Argos Bleak broke away from Plunder towards the end. He was killed in retaliation. Paid for it with his life."

"Oh my God," she said softly. "Bleak… Bleak said that he suspected that Kroi had killed him. Ma-Ti had told him."

"They never found the body."

"Probably buried under one of Plunder's project homes," she said, rubbing her temples tiredly. "Oh my God. What a mess."

"There's more, Linka. We don't have much longer together," Captain Planet explained, glancing at a clock on the wall. "We need to talk about your power. If and when you leave this future, the wind element will become unstable again. But there is a way around this — if you choose to do so."

Linka leaned forward, listening carefully. "What can I do?"

Gaia turned to address her. "Both wind rings belong to the same soul. Now that I am no longer there to guide the elements, each ring will need to remain in the hands of a chosen human. Both wind rings currently answer to you."

"So how do I —"

"You'll need to willingly pass on your other wind ring before you leave. Transfer it to someone worthy, or your element will once again overwhelm the earth."

"What happens if someone else dies? If it is not passed on in time? If Kwame's ring, for example —"

"If someone were to die whilst in possession of their element, the process will repeat, only with their own element causing havoc. The safest bet would be to promise it to someone while still in possession. Does that make sense?"

"No," she whispered. "I still do not under —"

"Let's take Wheeler. Wheeler holds the fire ring. If Wheeler has a clear idea in his head of who he'll pass it onto when he dies, this should suffice. A promise. Or perhaps in a few years he can pass it on himself to one of his children." Gaia smiled, reaching forward and squeezing her hand. "Your children."

"There are still so many uncertainties," Linka said worriedly, but Gaia shook her head. "So they will simply need to have their back-up bearer ready in the wings to take possession, in case the unexpected happens?"

"It's an inelegant solution, but with neither myself or Captain Planet to assist, steps like this are going to need to be taken in order to maintain control. I've been unable to make contact until now, but it's imperative that you pass on this information to the others. The rings must always be promised, and passed on down the line."

"All right," she replied. She was becoming sleepy; eyelids drooping. She yawned.

"She's fading," Captain Planet said. "Linka?"

" _Da_ ," she said, snapping her eyelids open again and straightening her body.

"You'll need to direct the beams into the displacement equipment. This should feed the local power supply enough for you to access Blight's mainframe and enter the coordinates. You'll have roughly fifteen minutes before the circuits will fry."

"How do I set the —"

"Search through Blight's files for her first successful time jump — the one where she left the message on the mirror. That's where the timeline split in your world. Reverse the polarity. You should end up back where you came from, time-wise. Try for Hope Island's coordinates."

"Do it in daylight, however," Gaia added. "The coordinates will put you dead centre, which will be the Pacific Ocean. Don't want you splashing down at night."

"And make sure the others have cleared the room when you make the jump. I suspect there will be some electrical blow-back." Cap folded his arms. "It'll be a one-way ticket. A successful jump means the equipment will be destroyed."

"All right," she whispered, a little overwhelmed by the task at hand. "How long has it been? How long have I —"

"Around eight weeks," Gaia said. "And eight weeks here means eight weeks there. Time passes concurrently."

"Once you combine my powers, that's it. Your future teammates will no longer be able to summon me." Captain Planet explained. "They'll be on their own. But there's a chance you may be able to restart the electricity grid for them."

"How?"

"You're a hacker. See if you can isolate the corrupt file before you go."

"All of this in fifteen minutes," she said incredulously. "You give me more credit that I'm worth, I'm afraid."

"If you can't do it, you can't do it," he said, quirking an eyebrow. He smirked. "But I've never known you to back down from a challenge."

She yawned again, taking another sip of her tea. It was lukewarm now and she blanched, placing the mug and saucer on the floor.

"One more thing."

"Of course there is," Linka replied tiredly. She curled up in the armchair, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I can't guarantee what you will be able to recall when you return, Linka. Once you're back to your own time, there's likely to be some disorientation. You'll have over thirty years worth of memories crammed into a brain with a twenty-three year-old capacity. The mind can only take so much."

"Great," she said, shaking her head with frustration. "So if I return, I am therefore free to repeat the same mistakes? Dooming everyone to this life all over again because I will not remember anything?"

"They were never  _your_  mistakes, Linka and I didn't say you would lose everything," she explained gently. "I just said there will probably be some disorientation when you land. There will likely be confusion. Some short-term amnesia until your brain can sort itself out."

"Anything else?" she asked, blinking in an effort to keep her eyes open.

"You'll most likely encounter some breathing difficulties too. The increase in oxygen levels back home will cause some initial light-headedness. Perhaps loss of consciousness."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she breathed. Her words were jumbling into one another and she was struggling to verbalise her thoughts. "This keeps getting better, Gaia. We are landing in water."

"You've been through a lot, Linka. Have faith. You can do this," she said gently. "Keep the portal open for as long as you think you can. This should alert myself to your impending arrival. I'm hopeful there'll be some extra hands on deck by the time you touch down."

"Another biscuit, love?" Cap asked in his best British accent, but she shook her head, resting her cheek against the armrest.

" _Nyet_ ," she replied, closing her eyes. "Thank you."

"All right. I'm outta here," Captain Planet said. She felt his palm rest on her head as he passed. The sound of a door opened. "Doctors advice is to stay well away from shady government operatives and pill-popping Ukrainians."

Linka raised her hand, flopping it through the air. It dropped heavily back into her lap as she mumbled an inarticulate response. She was exhausted. Ready for sleep.

"Would you do anything differently?" Gaia asked. Her voice was closer now, soft and hushed in her ear. "When you return, I mean?"

Linka smiled drowsily."Throwing my laptop through a plate-glass window would be a good start," she murmured.

"Anything else?"

"I do not know." She shrugged, relaxed and sleepy. Her chin lolled against her chest and she felt Gaia's hand passing over the top of her head, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "What do... you suggest?"

"Live."

"Live?" Linka mumbled, her voice barely audible. She breathed out slowly, muscles relaxing and feeling a pleasant warmth enveloping her.

"You've been given a second chance, darling girl. Use it well," Gaia whispered, passing her hand over Linka's face as she finally slumped, head tilted back and lips parted. "Good luck."


	35. Chapter 35

Ma-Ti and his fellow travellers had left Barstow the day before, having replenished their food and supplies via a snatch-and-grab at the local Walmart. It had been surprisingly well-stocked and best of all, had running water. No water pressure — just a wet dribble issuing from the faucets — but it was better than nothing.

They'd spent the night before inside one of the classrooms of the local elementary school, mentally preparing themselves for the next leg. Knowing that the section of road ahead would be the most difficult part of the journey.

The team had set out again at dawn, intent on travelling until the mid-afternoon heat proved too much for them. Hoping to come across some form of shelter where they could rest — but it wasn't to be. Dry, dusty fields continued to stretch as far as the eye could see and the highway seemed to be a never-ending expanse of bitumen.

Ma-Ti took a swig of water from his hip flask and wiped his brow, eying the horizon. The sun was setting and the heat of the day had given way to a bone-numbing coldness. Combined with tiredness, the conditions were causing members of the team to slow somewhat. They were struggling. Some of them ambled onwards with slow, lurching movements and he could see that exhaustion was starting to affect them. The team leader chose to set up camp for the night and they all scattered, seeking out shelter from the frigid air whipping around them.

Ma-Ti sighed; knees drawn up and back straight under the protection of the broken vehicle he'd perched himself beside, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his knees.

He chatted for a while with Anna and Jamie until the distant sound of a motor pricked his ears.

A yell from up ahead interrupted them.

"CAR!"

Ma-Ti peered around the side of the fender as everyone dove for cover. White headlights were visible in the distance. The team members still stretched out along the road either scurried towards Ma-Ti's vehicle or dashed blindly into the dry grasses bordering the fields beyond the highway.

It was certainly not the first time they'd come across others since they'd set out from LA. Vehicles passed through at semi-regular intervals. The raiders were easy to spot, however it was difficult to tell the intentions of the others cruising past. Most likely Blight's people, making their regular supply runs back and forth between states.

They'd even witnessed a violent carjacking just outside of Hesperia. The raiders had been swift and brutal as they took possession of the SUV. Ma-Ti closed his eyes, pushing the memory from his mind. The screaming still haunted him.

The motor noise was louder now, a low roar with intermittent grinding noises and he chanced another look around the back of their shelter.

"Doesn't sound like the pick-up truck from earlier," Anna whispered, gripping Ma-Ti's arm. He shook his head as the shape rumbled towards them. He squinted, struggling to make out the shape in the faded light. It was bulkier than a car or wagon and only one headlight was working.

Whatever it was, it was loud. Ma-Ti could feel the vibrations as it ambled onwards. Confusion gave way to astonishment as the vehicle came into focus in under the gloom of the moonlight.

"It's a tank," he said faintly, shocked as the camouflaged army-carrier approached. A look-out was perched within the open hatch on top: clad in fatigues and gripping a heavy machine-gun. A spotlight was mounted on top; it's beam moving through the landscape. "Where would they get a —"

"Fort Irwin Military base isn't too far from here," Jamie whispered back. "Reckon they're raiders?"

"Not really wanting to find out." The spotlight glanced over them. He nudged Anna with his elbow, aware that they would be within the tank's field of vision within the next ten seconds. "Move!"

They crept around the hood and ducked down again on the other side as the tank rolled past them. The engine noise decreased as it continued along the highway. Then suddenly, the squealing of brakes as the tank ground to a halt about 200 yards down the road.

Ma-Ti held his breath, eyes wide and staring at their leader Jim — just visible in the grass to Ma-Ti's left. The spotlight turned in their direction again, it's beam flickering as it passed. Jim held up his hands in confusion, not knowing what to expect. Mechanical grinding could now be heard, along with excited whoops and the sound of glass breaking.

With the benefit of foresight, Ma-Ti suddenly understood. With mounting panic, he realized that the inhabitants of the tank were drunk and looking for a little target practice — and the only target in sight was the one they were hiding behind.

"Shit," Jamie hissed, staring at Ma-Ti in fear. "Oh, shit! Does that thing have a canon?"

"Go!" Ma-Ti whispered, shoving the others towards the long grass. "Move!"

They staggered away as an ear-shattering blast filled the air. The whistle of a projectile followed and Ma-Tilaunched himself into the field, hitting the ground hard as the car exploded behind them, sending a ball of fire spiralling upwards. Blistering heat bore down on them as the shell of the vehicle was forced into the air by the impact. It came crashing down uncomfortably close to where Jim was lying and he rolled himself clear.

Ma-Ti stared back in the direction of the tank, hearing more jeers and rowdy yelling from up the road. He felt a surge of rage and hatred towards them. Cursing the fact that for many weak-willed survivors empathy and compassion had been replaced by a complete and utter disrespect for life.

Gang mentality was the worst of the human traits Ma-Ti had witnessed since civilisation began to crash and burn; the selfish ideology that 'surviving' must occur at the expense of others — no matter how unjust and brutal. It had begun when the financial institutions folded. The attacks, the pointless death and destruction had taken his breath away.

Sometimes human nature sickened him to the core.

More muffled jeers issued from the tank's direction. Ma-Ti turned, about to speak to —

_Reach._

Ma-Ti froze, startled by the voice. It had come out of nowhere, a mere whisper in the darkness but it had definitely been there. "What?"

"We stayin'?" Jamie dragged himself through the grass, keeping low. Jim soon followed and they sidled up beside Ma-Ti, glancing nervously towards the tank that was showing no signs of leaving. The spotlight glanced over the fields again. "What if they've seen us?"

"Uh," Ma-Ti said, still on edge. "I do not —"

_Linka._

Ma-Ti's mouth snapped shut. Jamie's question was left unanswered. He suddenly felt light-headed and dizzy. He gripped the grass tightly within his fist; dropping his forehead onto the ground and breathing heavily. Trying to focus, because he could hear a voice in the back of his mind. Almost an echo.

_Now._

Distinctly feminine, it caused the hackles on the back of his neck to rise.

He rolled onto his back, clutching his head as a flash of light shot across the field. It struck Ma-Ti head on and he gasped, raising his hands over his face, an automatic reflex.

"What the hell was —" Jamie began, startled by the phenomenon, but Ma-Ti shook his noise invaded his mind. It was like flicking on a light switch. He concentrated on it, focusing the static into one collective command. Scarcely breathing, unwilling to believe that it might work.

"Heart."

The scent of lavender overwhelmed him. He scuttled backwards, incredulous as he felt Gaia's distinct presence — sharp and clear as day. Her energy slowly withdrew, but the emotional turmoil and fear coming from his travelling partners was unmistakable. Their feelings were tangible, easily accessible to his reach.

"Oh God," he said wonderingly, rolling back onto his stomach and flexing his fingers. He gazed at his ring, watching the stone glow for another few moments before fading back to a dull yellow again. "Oh my God. They did it."

"Huh?" Jim said, eyes sweeping nervously towards the headlights now barreling back towards them. "What are you —"

"They did it... my power is back." His eyes flitted in the direction they'd just come from and he felt a sudden swell of unmistakable pride. "Our powers are back."

They were all silent, letting the words sink in. All eyes were on Ma-Ti as he pushed himself up off the ground and strode confidently towards the road, heading towards the tank. He moved his ring to his head with a wonderous grin.

Jim scrambled to his feet and ran after him. "What are you doing?" he hissed, trying to grab Ma-Ti's shoulder as the others followed closely behind. "Are you nuts?"

"Getting us some transport," Ma-Ti grinned. "Oh god. I can't believe they did it."

"Transport? We'll be sittin' ducks in that thing. As soon as they don't call in, they'll send more raiders out to —"

"Have a little faith," Ma-Ti said with a wide smile. He raised his hand to his eyes, issuing a silent command. The tank stood still and silent for a moment and his team-mates looked on nervously as the hatch swung back open and a head appeared. The tank inhabitants began climbing out one by one, looking around in confusion and Ma-Ti grinned. "I have a feeling our luck is about to change."

Three scruffy-looking men alighted and wandered away, scattering into the arid landscape with dazed expressions on their faces. The headlights illuminated the path they took.

"Are you doin' this?" Jamie asked, stunned as he watched a burly, bearded raider drop himself down next to a dry clump of weed. "Holy shit, are you serious?"

Ma-Ti motioned for them to follow. He approached the barrel and peered up at it, the smell of gunpowder unmistakable. The heat issuing from the tank was enormous. He watched Jim raise his leg up, grabbing hold of the road wheel and heaving himself up onto the side skirt. Jim gripped Jamie's arm and pulled him up before feeling his way towards the hatch.

"I'll send someone to come and get them," Ma-Ti said, hauling himself up and standing on the wheel mount. "They have no supplies on —"

"Why bother?" Jim muttered, beckoning towards the others and helping them up one by one. "I'd leave 'em here to rot."

"Why bother?" Ma-Ti repeated. "Because the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world." Ma-Ti turned his brown eyes towards Jim. "It does not matter what they have done. The day we start becoming like them — we might as well give up now."

"Fair enough," Jim murmured, following a woman with dirty blonde hair into the hatch. He paused towards the bottom of the ladder; only his eyes and forehead visible. "You'll know if anyone's heading our —"

"Yes. I'll be able to scan for people approaching. Get into their heads and control their free will. We'll be fine. I think we'll want to switch transport though as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Drain the fuel. We're a little conspicuous."

Jim nodded, disappearing below. Ma-Ti soon followed, swinging his legs over and lowering himself into the cramped tank, closing the hatch behind him. The others were crouched over the controls, trouble-shooting how to get the machinery started. After five minutes the vehicle finally lurched forward. It was noisy and cramped, but they were moving — and they were under the protection of the heart ring.

Ma-Ti dropped down towards the back of the tank and raised his ring again, intent on communicating with the others.

* * *

Bleak winced, rolling over and doing his best to ignore the shrieking and whooping coming from the room next door. He reached for his jacket and wrapped it around his face, trying to drown out the high-pitched noise assaulting his eardrums.

"Goddamn idiots," he grumbled, willing himself to calm down. He had a splitting headache and was seriously in need of a good night's sleep. The dreams — the nightmares — were getting out of control.

_Just one decent fucking night._

A loud thump, then more hysterical laughter. Bed springs squeaking loudly. It felt like the walls were about to come down.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled. Rolling over onto his side, he glared at the wall that separated himself and the two weirdos in the room next door. "Bunch of grade-schoolers."

Excitable chatter floated through the walls and then silence descended again. Bleak closed his eyes, settling himself back to sleep but the reprieve didn't last long.

 _Thump._ More cackling.

Bleak flung his jacket into the corner and pushed himself to his feet, stalking to the next room of the little bungalow they'd come across yesterday afternoon. Baby-sitting these two was driving him up the wall. "Stupid fuckin gi—"

He pushed the door to the main bedroom open and froze within the door frame. Gi and Grace were jumping on the bed, holding hands and shrieking wildly. They spotted Bleak and slowed their bouncing efforts, but joy still radiated from their faces.

"What the fuck," he began, glaring at them with contempt. "I swear to fuckin' God, I'm gonna dump you both by the side of the —"

"Aw, cheer up, cranky-pants," Grace begun. "You won't believe —"

Grace lost her footing. She yelped and slipped off the bed, tumbling to the floor and setting Gi off into a new wave of giggles. Gi leapt off the mattress and tip-toed to the other side of the bed, pulling the spread-eagled girl back to her feet again. Grace grinned, regaining her breath and pointing at the mattress, tilting her head. "Slippery there."

"You drunk?" he said, incredulous, looking around for evidence of empty bottles. "Fuckin' stupid, girls. Makin' enough noise to —"

"My power's back!" Gi blurted out, stepping forward and waving her ring hand in the air. "They did it!"

"Huh?" Bleak stepped forward, staring at them with a crease in his brow. "What do ya —"

"I've got my power back!"

Bleak's eyes narrowed. "Prove it."

"Not a lot of water here, but here goes." Raising her hand, she turned and pointed her ring in the direction of the bathroom. "Water."

Brown, muddy liquid broke loose from the pipes, surging through the air and hitting the wall opposite. It slid downwards and puddled into the carpet, spreading until it gradually reached the toes of Bleak's bare feet. He stepped away, scratching his bald head. In all honesty, he hadn't been expecting positive news.

He'd doubted Blondie was capable of pulling it off.

"See!" Gi exclaimed, running forward and gripping Bleak by the arms, shaking him excitedly. "Back in business!"

Grace jumped up and down, clapping her hands and Gi soon joined her. They wrapped their arms around each other and stumbled around the room blindly, oblivious to Bleak's unimpressed attitude.

"I'm goin' back to bed," Bleak muttered. He turned and headed out until the excited shouts reduced to a dull roar behind him. "Morons."

* * *

Kwame's eyes fluttered open. He was having trouble staying awake. Unable to tell if the cargo area was dark, hazy or if his vision was blurry. He could see the drivers — chatting idly to one another as they bounced along whatever road they were travelling along. Singing country and western songs out of tune while glancing back every now and then at their precious cargo. As if attacking and kidnapping people was an everyday occurrence.

A crack to back of the head had rendered him unconscious and he'd woken up here, tied up in the back of a truck. Seeing snippets of the landscape illuminated in the headlights courtesy of his view of the front windshield, Kwame was under no illusions. He knew they were heading to Nevada.

He breathed out, flexing his fingers outwards against the ropes bound around his wrists but it was no use. A dull ache pounded at his temples. His mouth and throat were dry and his nerves were shot — fear and worry for his friends overtaking any concerns he might have for his own welfare.

His ring was also missing from his finger, but he'd been semi-alert and responsive when the beam of light had hit the driver about half an hour ago — a surprised yelp issuing from the man's mouth as a flash bathed the interior in a green glow.

The truck had fish-tailed for a moment as the driver lost control, veering off road. Kwame was slammed into the side wall but the truck was brought back under control again, but the driver and his passenger had been spooked. Regardless of the pain he was in, Kwame had felt a strong surge of hope.

He eyed the Earth ring, shoved on the stubby finger of the man in front.

His power had returned. Wheeler and Linka had been successful.

He hoped to God they were all right.

* * *

_Wheeler, are you there?_

Wheeler woke up, startled. He'd been dozing in an upright position, facing the door — ready to fire-bomb whoever dared enter. He stretched, lighting his ring and glancing down at the tangle of soft hair beneath his chin. Linka was still slumped in the same position he'd left her — her back resting against his chest and her head tipped back upon his shoulder.

He checked her pulse, worried that she still hadn't regained consciousness — almost reassuring himself that she was still with him. Her breathing was steady — eyelids fluttering — and thankfully she had regained some color.

She'd been pale and wax-like when he'd found her; bowed backwards over a pile of rock in the middle of the crater. He'd been unable to rouse her. Hauling her up from the ground, he'd quickly tossed her over his shoulder and headed back up the tunnel and into the basement, sending a wall of flame towards anyone who tried to stop him.

He hadn't encountered much resistance once he made it to the main areas of the museum. It was too dark. In the resulting chaos and confusion, people had mostly mistaken him for just another museum dweller fleeing the crumbling building. The foundations had started to weaken courtesy of Captain Planet's rumblings and eventual exit, and he'd high-tailed it out quickly, fearing a collapse.

Black night had awaited him outside, making it impossible to negotiate his way far through the darkness— not to mention the dead weight he was carrying. He'd blundered through the grounds and eventually made the decision to wait it out, kicking open the door to a caretakers' shed on the outskirts of the property. He'd slipped inside, dropping down to the concrete floor and readjusting Linka's weight, pulling her into his lap.

Wheeler had melted the lock shut and fallen into a restless sleep soon after — until something had awoken him.

He glanced around the interior of the caretakers shed, listening carefully. It was quiet outside now. The screams and running footsteps had faded away. Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he used the other to pull Linka's limp form closer against him, pressing his mouth against her cheek. Silently willing her to wake up.

_Wheeler? Can you hear me?_

"Yeah," he rasped, sitting up straighter. "Yeah, little buddy, I'm here. You scared the shit outta me."

 _Oh thank God!_ Ma-Ti's relief was palpable.  _Are you all right?_

"Splittin' headache," he complained. "Few cuts and bruises. I'll live. You?"

_I am fine. I cannot you believe you did it!_

"Barely," he answered. "Got pretty hairy in there. Geez Ma-Ti, forgot what it was like to have you bouncin' around in my head."

_Sorry. You had me worried, though. Gi is the only one who has answered so far. Are you sure you're all right?_

"I'm fine. Linka and I are fine." He paused, glancing down as Linka's chin lolled forward against her chest. "I think Linka's all right. She won't wake up. I'm startin' to get —"

_What happened?_

"It all went to hell in a hand basket pretty quick. Wasn't pretty," he lamented. "Linka managed to free Cap though. Don't know how. Fuckin' Kroi was—"

_Kroi was there?_

"Piece of shit," Wheeler muttered. "Asshole went straight for her."

_Shatter his face again?_

"Nah. Set fire to his ass, though."

_What happened to Linka?_

"Dunno. I didn't see, they were…" Wheeler shook his head, trying to sort the conflicting images. "I think she found where they buried Cap. Big bang. Found her passed out just after I torched Kroi."

Ma-Ti sighed.  _All right. We've made it to Kelso. Tank ran out of gas but we've switched —_

"Tank?"

_Yes, we're heading —_

_"_ You're in a tank, Ma-Ti?" Wheeler repeated, stunned — and a little impressed. "How'd you manage that?"

 _It is a long story,_ Ma-Ti replied tiredly.  _I suggest you bypass through Barstow. You will find food, water and supplies there._

"Kay." A beat passed. "They've got Kwame."

He heard Ma-Ti sigh.  _I can't communicate with him but I can still sense his presence. He seems to be all right. Gi is safe. Her team were ambushed, but Bleak got her and Grace out in time. We are going to swing by and pick them up. They are not too far._

"All right."

_What are your plans?_

"Wait for Sleepin' Beauty to open her eyes. We'll work the rest out from there."

_Linka is all right, Wheeler. I have a feeling she's in good company._

"Good company?" Wheeler frowned, glancing down at Linka's face. Her eyes were still twitching under her eyelids but she was warm and her face was peaceful. "Whadya mean?"

_I am sure she will fill us in._

"All right." He glanced up, seeing daylight breaking through the gaps in the corrugated door frame. "Better go."

_Okay. Stay safe. I'll be in touch._

Ma-Ti broke off the communication. Wheeler settled back, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

His fingers glided lightly over her temple, tracing the fine line of her cheek and jaw. Sweeping along the delicate ridge of her ear, he brushed the matted hair away from her eyes and forehead. Her eyelids continued fluttering, dark lashes against pale skin; lips parted and looking peaceful. He hugged her closer, seeking comfort; cuddling her limp form to him.

Apprehension had now settled in. He pushed the worry to the back of his mind. Because despite his best intentions — despite the precautions and emotional stone-walling — that fine line he'd been treading with Linka was weakening.

He was in the same damn situation he'd been desperately trying to avoid.

They were now on their own.


	36. Chapter 36

_"Hello?"_

_"Privyet," a male voice answers. "You have not returned any of my calls, little sister."_

_She grins, delighted to hear her brother's voice. "Oh, you have no idea how busy we have been. It is so good to hear from you."_

_"Do they not have a phone signal in… wherever you are?"_

_"Da, they do," Linka scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I am in —" she pauses, looking around in confusion and scratching her head with her free hand. "Actually, I do not know where we are."_

_"This does not fill me with confidence, Little Linka."_

_"We are on the move," she admits, glancing around the near empty twenty-four hour transit lounge, attached to the main airport. "Maybe Germany?"_

_"Belgium." Gi's voice floats over from the cafeteria seating area. She's slumped over a cold drink, her chin in her hands. Linka smiles fondly, taking a seat opposite her best friend._

_"Gi says we are in Belgium."_

_"Belgium?" Mishka asks. "Working?"_

_"No, not here," she answers. "The borders have become stricter. We now need to clear passport control through some European countries. It was already midnight by the time we cleared customs. We have stopped for a rest."_

_"Oh. All right," Mishka says. He's not quite himself. Almost guarded, forcing himself to remain pleasant. The knowledge troubles Linka._

_"Sometimes I think domestic passenger flights would be easier," she laments. "It is not so bad. There are showers here. Restaurants. Gives us a chance to — what is the word? Rebuild?"_

_"Revive?" Gi offers. Her voice is muffled against the cool aluminium table. The soft drink lays discarded to her left. "Re-energise?"_

_Linka chuckles, leaning forward and running her fingers through Gi's hair fondly. "Gives us a chance to rest, Mishka."_

_"Are you looking after yourself?" Mishka's tone is still strange. Quiet and detached, and she wonders if she's forgotten a birthday or missed an event. She's been doing that a lot, lately._

_Linka sinks back in her seat but leaves her hand resting on Gi's head. Gi is breathing steadily, eyes closed and dozing. A sound diverts her attention and Linka glances towards the empty gift shop. A dry cleaning machine is whirring quietly, guided over the floors by a bored staff member._

_It passes Ma-Ti, seated at an internet station, tapping away at the keyboard. Kwame is chatting to a young couple who have missed their connecting flight and are stuck overnight. Wheeler's feet are just visible and he's out cold, stretched out on the floor in front of the wall-to-floor windows that look out at the twinkling lights of the airport beyond._

_She remembers Mishka's question. "I am looking after myself."_

_"You sound tired."_

_"You do not have to worry about me, Mishka," she begins. "I know how —"_

_"I have no one left to worry about, Linka," he says quietly, and she knows now that something is up. "You of all people should know that."_

_"I am so sorry, Mishka. I know I have not —" She shuts her mouth abruptly, feeling tears welling. Years of familial intuition is telling her that he's upset about something. "Are you all right?"_

_"I have not seen you in nearly twelve months." He pauses, and she hears his sigh over the crackle of the connection. "There was a news report on the Russia Today channel. You were mentioned personally."_

_"Oh?" she says nervously. They've all worked hard to keep certain details about their recent missions out of the press and she hopes — she prays — that he remains oblivious to one incident in particular. "What did you hear?"_

_"Were you attacked, Linka?"_

_"Bozhe moy," she breathes. Her fears are confirmed — he knows about Kroi. "When did this news report —"_

_"You have not answered my question!"_

_"Who filed the report? There was a media black —"_

_"Chert poberi, Linka." He groans, and she tilts her head sideways, away from the crackle over the line. "What worries me most is that you are not denying it."_

_"Mishka, I did not know how to —"_

_"HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME!"_

_Linka recoils, her cheeks burning with shame and humiliation. "Mishka, I —"_

_"You spend all of your time reassuring me that your work is safe! That you are in no danger and everything is fine —"_

_"I_ **_am_ ** _fine, Mishka," she pleads. "I —"_

_"I have to hear on the 6pm news that my sister was sexually assaulted on a rural property! I have had reporters ringing the house all day for a comment. Our uncle is completely beside himself! Did you know this was out?"_

_"Nyet," she whispers, wiping away tears and gazing miserably at Ma-Ti who is watching the exchange with a concerned look on his face. "No, I did not."_

_"Is it true?"_

_She shudders, embarrassed that her brother had to find out this way. "Yes."_

_"Oh God, Linka." He sounds devastated. "Why would you keep this from me?"_

_"It happened a few months ago." She sniffs, running her hand through her hair and propping her chin in her hand. "I did not want to worry you."_

_"I cannot believe —" he starts, his voice breaking. "What happened?"_

_"It was a man working for Looten Plunder. He had made threats against me before." She shrugs, staring miserably at the beads of condensation dripping down Gi's discarded Coke. "He followed me. I am sure by now you know the rest."_

_"God, Linka." There's a clunking sound over the line and she guesses he's switching hands. "I heard the words 'sexual assault' and I just panicked."_

_"I am fine. It could have been a lot worse."_

_"Are you sure you are all right?"_

_"It was not as bad as it could have been. Kroi was interrupted."_

_"You are not just saying this? You are not just telling me what I hope to hear?"_

_She swallows, closing her eyes. "I had a few bumps and bruises. He… he got a little rough. Slapped me a few times. That is all, I promise. Wheeler found us before he could finish what he started. He broke Kroi's nose…. amongst other things."_

_"And yet again, your Yankee is in the right place at the right time." The mood has lifted a little and Mishka seems to have calmed down, now that the details have been clarified. "I am going to have to surgically graft that Amerikanskiy to you."_

_"He takes good care of me… of all of us." She gives a shaky laugh, leaning back in her seat. "Sometimes I am glad he is a little over-protective."_

_"Over-protective is an understatement, Linka," Mishka says fondly. "But that is a conversation for another time. I am glad you are all right. I just wish you would have told me. Nona would be rolling in her grave."_

_"I know," she whispers. "Honestly, I am fine. You do not need to worry."_

_"I am your brother, it is my job to worry," he says, but she can hear the smile in his voice. "But I believe you."_

_"How are things there?"_

_Mishka sighs. "The same. Unemployment is terrible. The jobs have dried up since the mine closed. I may need to move on from here."_

_"What will you do with the house?"_

_"I do not know," he confesses. "I am thinking of selling it. It grieves me to do so — it is the only link we have left of them."_

_"I know," she repeats. She twists the strap of her handbag, in no way prepared to discuss such heavy topics at two in the morning. "But they would want what was best for us."_

_"There is nothing here now but death and memory… and you are no longer around to brighten the place up." He pauses. "Would you be upset if I did so? If I sold the house?"_

_She knows he's asking for permission. Nona's will had left everything to them and the cottage was fully paid off. "Nyet. Do what you need to do. It is fine."_

_"I would split the proceeds down the middle, I can deposit your half to wherever you —."_

_"I trust you, Mishka." And she did._

_"All right," he says and his relief is evident. "I will start making arrangements. An opportunity may have come up for work, too. I have an interview next week. It is in St Petersburg."_

_"That is wonderful, Mishka. If you move, will you take Lidiya?"_

_"Oh, Linka," he laughs, amused at how out of touch she is. "We broke up months ago."_

_"Bozhe moy," she moans. "Really? I liked her. She was lovely."_

_"She left to find work. It was mutual, but we are on good terms."_

_"I am sorry you had to find out —"_

_"It is fine," he reassures her. "Not exactly an easy topic to bring up to your brother, is it?"_

_"No," she whispers. Her eyelids are drooping and exhaustion is settling over her like a warm blanket. "I had better go."_

_"Do not be a stranger, Linka," he says. "You are the only family I have left. I worry about you."_

_"I know," she says faintly._

_"And ring Uncle Dimitri. He is worried sick."_

_"I will. First thing tomorrow."_

_"Do svidaniya."_

_Linka bids her brother goodbye and ends the call, tossing the phone into her handbag. She leans forward and massages her temples, a little overwhelmed by the heavy conversation. Wide awake and alert now, her mind is working overtime._

_Most distressing for her is the fact that her altercation with Kroi is out in the open. The knowledge is humiliating and she wonders what exactly has been reported. She rubs her eyes briefly before glancing around the empty lounge area again._

_Gi is snoring softly opposite her. The transit couple are gone and Kwame is asleep, curled up against the wall. Ma-Ti is still at the internet station. His eyes are just visible above the monitor and he's watching her with sympathetic eyes. He cranes his neck further, giving her a reassuring smile._

_Rising to her feet, she grabs her handbag and trudges towards Ma-Ti, sinking into the seat beside him. He's surfing the web, scanning articles and getting himself up to speed on federal and international human trafficking laws._

_"Hey," he says, giving her a brief, one-armed hug. His eyes never leave the screen. "Are you all right?"_

_"Did you hear all that?" she asks quietly, nodding towards her handbag and the phone hidden inside._

_"I heard enough," he says, tapping his head and giving her a wink. "Your brother is just worried about you. The media reports are not as bad as you think, though. The details are vague."_

_She nods, barely comforted by the thought. "You should get some sleep, Ma-Ti."_

_"Sleep is over-rated," he replies, resuming his scanning and note-taking. She squeezes his shoulder and stands again, heading towards the windows._

_An aircraft outside is powering up, beginning the slow taxi towards the runway. Linka drops to the floor beside Wheeler's sleeping figure and crosses her legs, watching the plane get towed away out of her sight._

_There's moisture collecting on the inside of the window. The temperature has dropped outside and the ground crew are rugged up and looking decidedly cold. She can just see the Geo-Cruiser's distinctive gold wing at the far end of the terminal._

_She sighs, glancing down at Wheeler. He's curled up on his side, looking peaceful. She envies his ability to sleep on whatever surface he's capable of collapsing onto._

_A thick blanket covers his body. Messy, flame-colored hair is sticking up in all directions — stark red against the white pillow he's dragged in with him._

_She raises her hand without thinking. The urge has returned and this time she doesn't resist it. She settles her hand against his forehead, stroking her fingers slowly through his hair. He mutters something incomprehensible and cuddles closer, pressing his face against her hip. His breathing steadies again._

_Removing her jacket, she settles herself down beside him — wriggling back until she can feel the broad expanse of his chest pressed up against her spine, moulding herself to him._

_She's careful not to wake him, adjusting the blanket around their bodies and snuggling down, sharing his pillow. His arm eventually flops across her waist, pulling her closer. Warm and comfortable, she watches the planes pass by until her eyelids start to lull and the lights and shapes beyond the window begin to blur and lose focus._

* * *

"Hey."

Linka felt several light slaps to the cheek. She mumbled under her breath, flicking the hand away with mild annoyance.

"Wake up, Russki."

Her eyelids fluttered, aware that someone was shaking her gently. Stifling a yawn, she dropped her hand and it flopped downwards, coming to rest on someone's warm thigh. Daylight was filtering through a small vent in the ceiling and she stared up at it for a moment, collecting her bearings.

Her body stiffened. "Wha —"

"Back in the land of the livin'?"

She turned, glancing up over her shoulder and saw Wheeler peering down at her. The relief on his face was apparent.

She groaned, rubbing her face. "How long have I been —"

"Couple of hours, maybe," he said as she sat up, looking around in confusion. "You were startin' to freak me out."

"Did I do it?" she whispered, twisting around to face him. "Is your power back?"

"Yep." He smiled again, flicking his thumb over his ring and a small flame appeared above the stone. Linka watched it flicker and dance, her mouth agape as the implications sunk in. "Back in business."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she breathed. "We did it."

"You did it," he said proudly. "Don't know how, but you did."

"He needed a physical reconnection with a wind-bearer to reactivate," she said, echoing Captain Planet's words. She sighed, settling back against Wheeler's chest and shaking her head in wonder. "I have just had the strangest meeting with two people I assumed were long gone from this earth."

"You did what now?" Wheeler replied with a frown, probably thinking she'd suffered a bump to the head in the resulting chaos. "Huh?"

"You would never believe it." Her eyes swept over his face and it was then she spotted the blood. "Wheeler, you are bleeding!"

"Oh," he said, pressing his hand to his forehead and observing the blood staining his fingertips. "Yeah. I'll live. Do you remember anything?"

"All of it," she replied tiredly. His arms tightened around her and she tipped her head back, closing her eyes and enjoying his closeness. Knowing it probably wouldn't last long. "What now?"

"Ma-Ti said there are supplies in Barstow. My bike isn't far from there."

"There is a lot I need to pass on to you," she said softly. "Gaia was —"

"Let's get outta here first," Wheeler replied. He pushed himself to his feet with a groan, stretching out the kinks in his muscles before offering her his hand. "You can tell me on the way."

She nodded, gripping his hand as he hauled her to her feet. "Do you have our bags?"

"Back at the truck. We'll need to to grab 'em first, but we'd better make it quick." He melted the lock and pushed the door open a fraction, glancing out into the grounds. "There's still loonies roamin' around and they're pretty pissed off."

"All right." She ran her hand through her lank hair, before glancing down at her dusty and sweaty clothes. "What I wouldn't give for a bath right now."

"Suck it up, buttercup," Wheeler replied, and she couldn't help but smile. "Gonna have to wait. C'mon."

* * *

After walking for most of the morning, the sign advertising Silverwood Lake was too good to pass up. They made a detour, heading in the direction of the reservoir. Hoping to replenish their water supply and rid themselves of the grime coating their clothes and bodies.

The mid-afternoon sun was beating down on them by the time they reached the turn-off. Linka had rolled her jeans up and stripped down to her singlet, but it had done little to curb the sweat beading on her forehead and down her chest.

She walked quietly, content to listen to him reminisce about past missions. She added her own recollections and memories, but for the most part she remained distracted.

Wheeler had removed his shirt due to the blistering conditions, and she couldn't help glancing shyly at him every now and then. Still comparing him to the version she'd left behind.

He wasn't as toned as he used to be, but he certainly remained in good shape. The same broad shoulders, flat stomach and his arms were still well-defined. Two small, puckered scars were visible on his torso — one near his collarbone and the second about two inches below.

She squinted, shielding her eyes against the sunlight, realising that he'd stopped talking. He was watching her quietly, one eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face.

"What?" she croaked, embarrassed at being caught out.

"Never mind," he answered, shaking his head with an wide grin. He tapped his chest, looking down at the scars. "First one didn't do too much damage. Fractured my clavicle. Some bone fragments dislodged. Second one was the killer. Had me breathin' blood bubbles."

"Oh," she said, peering at the innocuous marks on his skin. "How bad was it?"

"Knocked me off my feet," he replied. "Second shot punctured my lung, bullet became lodged in my chest. Lung collapsed. Paramedics had to drain the air and blood usin' a needle. Wasn't pretty," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Were you conscious when they —"

"Out cold." His face hardened for a moment. "Never knew what hit me."

"God, Wheeler," she breathed, unable to take her eyes off the scars. "Plunder?"

"Yeah."

"Why —" she asked, but she already knew the answer. "Plunder despised you in the end, didn't he? You would anger him intentionally so that Ma-Ti could —"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his brow. "Did my job a little too well."

She nodded, stepping around a pothole in the road. "How long were you in hospital for?"

"I dunno. Bout a week and a half maybe?" He flicked his gaze towards her. "I was discharged just after those idiots uploaded the package."

"The package?" she asked, fanning her flushed face with the back of her hand. "Do you mean the virus?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding towards the trees. "I think I see water."

He increased his pace, weaving through the trees and Linka hurried to keep up. She wet her lips in anticipation, her eyes following the random objects Wheeler was offloading, flung carelessly to the ground as they approached the water's edge. His back-pack was the first to go — discarded beside a picnic table, followed by his hat. He did an ungraceful one-legged stumble as he removed his shoes and Linka's face turned bright crimson as he stripped down to his boxers.

"Yankee!" she cried out. "Really?"

He waved her off, striding out and wading through the flat water until he was waist-deep. He knelt down, submerging his chest and shoulders while she stood on the shore, twisting her hands nervously.

"You comin' in?"

The water looked appealing. She tilted her head, considering what her options were. She wasn't wearing a bra and she desperately needed to wash her clothes. She only had two sets and both were filthy.

"All right," she called back, fixing him with a hard stare. "Do not look."

"Seen it all before, honey," he replied, gesturing towards her with raised eyebrows. "Intimately."

Wheeler turned around all the same. She stripped down quickly, pushing the heavy denim down her legs and stepping out of them. The singlet came off next, however she clutched the fabric to her chest, nervous about exposing herself. She left her cotton briefs on for now.

The water was cool against her flushed skin. She ambled into the lake, feeling the sand and sediment moving between her toes. Wading out to meet him, she glanced around, watching the way the light reflected off the water's surface.

"Got soap in my bag," he said, nodding towards the shore. "We can clean up a little. Clean our clothes too."

She nodded, ducking under the water and submerging her head for a moment, before removing the elastic band from her tangled hair. Running her fingers through the long strands, they snagged several times and she gave a grunt of annoyance. "I do not suppose you have a brush in there too?"

"Nah." Wheeler shook his head. "Got a fishin' line though. Might be able to cook up some trout."

She nodded eagerly. "Will you be able to find bait?"

"I dunno. More worried about cookin' the damn thing. Got any matches?"

"No," she said, disappointed. "Can we not search the cars here for a light —"

She shut her mouth abruptly, watching him snickering quietly to himself.

" _Pridurok_ ," she muttered, splashing him, and he sent a decent wall of water back.

They floated in silence for a while, enjoying the solitude. Basking in the afternoon sun — aware that this was indeed the calm before the storm.

* * *

"Crushed lavender. Coconut oil. Sometimes Elena will throw in some home-made butter if supplies are runnin' low. She was using somethin' called lye but we can't get that anymore."

"Oh," Linka replied, eying the makeshift clothes line — a low timber fence dividing the carpark from the shoreline. She prodded the shirts and underwear with her fingers, checking on their progress and satisfied that they were drying.

She tip-toed barefoot back through the carpark feeling clean and refreshed, treading over the gravel and handing back the soap. Wheeler dried it, tossing it back into the backpack by his side.

"Not a fan of the lavender, though," he mused. He stood with his back against an old, beat-up Ford Taurus, one of several vehicles lying discarded throughout the parking area. "It's a bit girly."

"I guess it is better than nothing," she said.

"Seriously?" He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Love smellin' like a ninety-year-old's underwear drawer."

She giggled, unable to help herself. Wheeler still had a way with words. "I suppose you have to use whatever is available."

"Yeah." Wheeler opened the back passenger seat door and she climbed inside, scooting over to allow him room. He settled down beside her, hunching down in his seat and propping his knees up against the seat in front. She felt a strong surge of affection for him. "We do all right, though."

The sun had disappeared behind the mountains and a chill had descended. She shivered, wishing that her singlet had dried properly. It was still quite damp, along with the shorts she was wearing. Her jeans were still sodden, drying over the drivers seat head-rest.

Goosebumps dusted her arms and chest. It was too risky to start a fire inside the confined space, but sleeping out in the elements was not an option. The signs warned of mountain lions and coyotes that roamed the area at night. She smiled, though as he pulled out his sleeping bag, tossing it into her lap.

" _Spasiba_ ," she whispered, pulling it over her shoulders and wrapping it tightly around her. Twisting to face him, she watched as Wheeler silently swept his other hand back and forth over his ring, lighting and extinguishing the flame with each pass. "How do you do that?"

"Huh?"

"Your ring," she said, pointing at the flame. "You are not saying the word."

"Oh," he replied, understanding her question. "Towards the end I could summon my power without verbalising it."

"Really?" she said, surprised — and a little impressed. She watched the flame flicker for a moment, enjoying the way it cast a soft glow over his handsome features. Tucking her feet underneath her, she leant her cheek against the back of the vinyl seat. "Tell me more about where you live?"

"Uh… big property. Middle of nowhere, about a hundred and fifty acres. Belonged to an old couple who died, their daughter inherited it. Was a dairy farm before… you know. Before it all went to shit."

"Who else lives there?

"There's about forty of us, all up. A lot of sheds and barns that've been converted into living quarters. We're all spread out."

"What do you do for food?"

"We all have an agreement. Everyone grows and tends to their own stuff. We swap and trade goods. We all share the care of a few cows and goats — they're good for milk. Works well for us, we have it pretty good compared to the cities."

"I thought nothing grew above the —"

"We've got mirrors set up to reflect what little light there is. Basic hydroponic systems. We don't have to worry about our stuff gettin' stolen or damaged like Kwame does."

"Does it work?"

"The crops are pretty small but better than nothin'." He inspected the sunburn breaking out over his arms. "Guess we don't have to worry 'bout a lack of sun anymore."

"So long as we can find my replacement," she said, glancing down at her ring. She smiled gently at him. "Are there other groups of people living like you? Living near you?"

"Yeah," he said. "There's little communities all over the place. Each one kinda keeps to themselves."

"And Mishka and his wife are also there with you?"

"Yeah. They're on the same property, on the other side of the valley. Bout a fifteen minute walk down a dirt road."

"Oh." She played with the ends of her hair, still damp from her earlier swim. "You called him after I died?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing down at his hands. "Yeah I did."

She stared past him, out the window. "How did he take it?"

"Shattered," Wheeler replied, wincing at the memory. "Outta all the phone calls I had to make, that one was the hardest. Absolutely shattered."

She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. "He had no-one left."

"Yeah, he did," he said, giving her a sad smile. "He had a niece and nephew. They're the reason he left Russia — had no idea they even existed until then."

She nodded. "That would have been a shock."

"Yeah."

"Mishka always liked you," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. Her finger passed over the car window, trailing through the moisture accumulating on the foggy windows. "Are there other children living there? Where you live?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning and looking upwards, doing a mental calculation. "Seven… maybe eight in all."

"Do they play together?"

"Yeah. Get up to a lot of mischief." He smiled, tipping his head back. "Eli's usually in the middle of it."

She grinned at him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. Questions or discussions focussed on her future self or the kids thus far have tended to be redirected, or avoided entirely by him. She'd respected him enough to let it go.

"Does everyone get along?"

"Everyone gets on well. Mostly everyone — there's a cranky ol' guy who gets on our nerves. Whines about the kids bein' too loud. Accuses everyone of stealin' his shit. He can be really aggressive. Lost my cool with him a few months ago, though. Got up in his face and told him to fuck off." Wheeler smirked. "He's been pretty quiet since then."

"Losing your temper, Wheeler?" she said quietly, eyeing him with amusement. "Never."

"Meh. I've never tolerated idiots well."

"What of your parents?" she asked, stifling a yawn. "What are they —"

"No idea," he said dismissively.

"You do not know?"

"Nope." He shrugged, clicking his fingers in the direction of her backpack. "Got your sleepin' bag in there, babe?"

She jolted, mumbling an apology as she fumbled inside and pulled the object out. "Here."

"Thanks."

"You do not know where they are?" she pressed gently as he settled the fabric over his legs. "Your parents?"

"No contact meant both of us, Lin." He looked away, fingering the locking mechanism on the side of the car and Linka was suddenly struck by how much he had sacrificed to be with her — both before and after her death.

"But surely you —"

"Barely heard from them towards the end of the Planeteers. Always in their own little world. Replaced me with beer and cigarette smoke."

"Oh Yankee," she whispered, squeezing his hand again. "I —"

"S'alright. No real loss."

She pursed her lips, aware that the conversation had taken a despondent turn. "Did they know about us?"

"They never returned my calls after I was shot. Never answered the phone before we left together." He shrugged, eyeing the faded vinyl headrest in front. "By the time I returned to the US, they'd moved on from their apartment. Phone numbers disconnected. Never bothered chasin' 'em."

"I am so sorry," she whispered, depressed and guilty about dragging all the memories up. "I will stop asking questions. I keep making things worse."

"S'alright." He patted his thighs and flicked his ring again, lighting up the interior of the car. "Wanna lie down?"

Linka nodded tiredly, shuffling over and lowering her head onto his lap. She pulled the sleeping bag up to her chin, staring up at the ceiling. Rolling the polyester outer-lining between her thumb and forefinger, she blinked up at him sleepily.

"You said we were not together before we left the Planeteers?"

"No."

"I have memories," she said, trying hard to phrase her thoughts correctly. "I remember little moments. A movie theatre? I think you kissed me."

"Yep."

"I think that maybe I wished…" She swallowed, forcing the words out. "Maybe I wanted to be closer to you towards the end."

"Yep."

He hunched down further, trying to find a position that suited his long legs. Her head lurched with the movement and he settled his palm on her forehead, as if to steady her.

"We used to cuddle together at night sometimes?"

He smiled down at her. "Yeah."

"But we were not together?"

"Nope." He chuckled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I don't know what the fuck we were, in all honesty."

She rolled onto her side, folding her arms up and pressing her face against his stomach. His sweatshirt was warm and soft against her cheek and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his fingers threading gently through her hair.

"Do you regret being with me?"

He didn't answer straight away. Linka held her breath, tipping her forehead against him — worried now about the potential answer.

"I regret…" He trailed off, resuming the ministrations that were causing tiny sparks of pleasure to burst through her scalp. "I regret a lot of things."

She bit her lip, a lump forming in her throat as she lay quietly, considering his response. "You do not to have to… I will understand if —"

He sighed heavily. "I regret havin' to drag you away from Queenstown — away from our home and all the friends that we'd made because Kroi was still trackin' you. I regret movin' you to London that final time. I regret the fact that you were unhappy there. I regret that I wasn't there for you and that you died alone."

"Oh God, Jake," she said, stunned. "That is not a burden you should have to carry —"

"I regret that we didn't get to say goodbye. I regret that our kids are growin' up without their Mom. I regret the fact that no one had the balls or the ability to put Blight away before she could cause all this damage."

She wiped her eyes, clutching his sweatshirt in her hands as his fingertips grazed the ridge of her ear.

"But I don't regret bein' with you."

She nodded tearfully, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.


	37. Chapter 37

_"So are we clear?"_

_An unenthusiastic chorus greets Kwame's ears, and Linka hides a smile from the pilot's seat._

_"I mean it," Kwame warns. "Things could get tense. You remember what happened last time."_

_"What?" Gi asks as she sweeps her hair up into a tattered cap. "The twenty armed secret police guys screaming at us, or the pissed-off dictator trying to throw us in jail for crimes against the state?"_

_"Both," Kwame says. "We have neither visas nor permission to be here. We are visitors. Westerners. We're not part of a state guided tour. We could —"_

_"We know," Ma-Ti says gently. "Kwame, it will be fine."_

_"We keep conversation to a minimum until we get to the site. If we run into anyone official-looking, we do not engage. We do not anger or antagonise —"_

_"That leaves you out, Wheeler," Gi says. "Maybe we should leave him in the —"_

_"Screw you, Bubble-Butt," Wheeler mutters as he flicks her cap off from behind. She reaches back and slaps him, and a vigorous shoving match ensues until Kwame clears his throat loudly._

_"I am serious," Kwame says through gritted teeth. He's seated in the co-pilot's seat and Linka is alarmed to see that his fists are clenched, knuckles losing color. "North Korea is not a location I take lightly. We know Blight is involved. SAIP has infiltrated —"_

_"Dude, we understand," Wheeler says, rolling his eyes. The Geo-Cruiser lurches slightly as they hit an air pocket. "We're all … geez Lin, get your pilot's licence outta a cornflake box?"_

_"Oh, ha ha, Yankee," she retorts, glancing over her shoulder. "You are funnier than a circle."_

_"Circus," he corrects. "You —"_

_Kwame isn't in the mood. "Wheeler, make sure you keep your mouth shut. At least until we have —"_

_"What? You mean now?"_

_Kwame slumps forward, frustrated. "On the ground. American's are not exactly in favor here at the moment."_

_"Don't think we ever are," he mutters. "Got called a fat American donkey-licker last time."_

_"Better than a capitalist pig, Wheeler," Linka says quietly._

_"Don't have an ounce of fat on me," he mutters, lifting his shirt and exposing his enviable six-pack abs. "And I only licked that damn donkey one time."_

_Gi snorts loudly. Linka spends the next few moments staring avidly at Wheeler's abdominal muscles and it takes Kwame's foot nudging hers to pull her back into focus._

_Ma-Ti is wiping his eyes, grinning. "Oh my. I am sure you did not take it personally."_

_"Yeah, well it's hard to take it personally — especially from a government whose leaders advocate eatin' sawdust to it's starvin' people," Wheeler muses._

_"Executing people for making international phone calls," Linka pipes up. "Do not forget that."_

_"Supreme leader has a little-man complex," Wheeler says, wiggling his pinkie finger. "Compensatin' for somethin'."_

_"Please don't mention that out there," Gi says, throwing him a combative look. "The walls have ears. Hills have eyes."_

_"Focus, people," Kwame groans, clearly frustrated. "Twenty-thousand square kilometres of forest gone along with our —"_

_"Kwame, are you all right," Gi asks gently. She's watching him carefully, a concerned look on her face. "You seem really stressed."_

_"More stressed than usual, anyway," Ma-Ti adds._

_Kwame swivels sideways in his seat, one arm slung around the neck-rest. He lowers his chin and watches them all. There's a weary, almost defeated look on his face._

_"Is this becoming too much?" he asks finally and the others fall silent, watching him carefully. "Are we getting to the point where our personal safety is being compromised?"_

_"Yep," Wheeler says and Gi stares at him with surprise._

_"Nine years." Kwame shakes his head. "Are we really making a difference?"_

_"I think we are," Ma-Ti says softly but Kwame sighs, hanging his head._

_"We are running around in circles," he laments. "Doing nothing but chasing our tails, so to speak."_

_"All the people we have helped," Ma-Ti begins. "We —"_

_"We are improving people's lives at the expense of our own," he says quietly. "I do not… I think… I feel that our job may be becoming too dangerous."_

_Linka glances back at Wheeler, reminded of their conversation in the movie theatre. He looks away, chewing his lip and mulling things over._

_"Are you thinking of leaving, Kwame?" Gi says. She's turned pale, stunned at the admission. "I don't —"_

_"I am starting to think we can no longer justify the risk any more," Kwame replies. He taps the dashboard with his index finger, staring out into the clouds beyond. "I just think we have been skirting the issue for a long time. It would be irresponsible of me not to address this. Especially as we are heading into yet another volatile —"_

_"Every situation is volatile, Kwame, we —"_

_"That is my point, Gi. I have a duty of care to you all. Gaia has all but left us. I fear the balance has shifted for her too and I —"_

_"Wait a minute," Gi says, looking around the quiet cabin. "All right. If we're gonna have this conversation — is anyone else here thinking about this? About leaving?"_

_Linka turns around again, glancing at Wheeler knowingly. He raises his hand slowly and Gi looks aghast, her mouth hanging open in shock. "Are you serious, Wheeler?"_

_"Yeah," Wheeler mutters under his breath. "Like a heart attack."_

_"I don't…" Gi is lost for words. She looks at Linka, eyes wide and pleading. "What about you?"_

_"I wish to stay," she says slowly. "I do not think I am ready to leave, yet."_

_"And you," Gi says, her eyes falling on Ma-Ti. "What about you?"_

_"I will stay." Ma-Ti tilts his head, running his finger over his ring. "Are you upset that they are —"_

_"No, no," she says, running her hands through her hair and replacing the cap Wheeler had knocked off earlier. "I just… I don't know. I'd never really thought about it. I just assumed…"_

_She doesn't finish her sentence. The cabin remains quiet, devoid of the laughter and banter from just ten minutes earlier._

_"All I am saying is that maybe it is time to consider our own futures," Kwame says gently. "I do not wish to be creating earthquakes as an eighty-year old geriatric in diapers with a hip replacement."_

_"Geez, Kwame," Wheeler mutters. "That's a tad graphic."_

_"Are you still wanting to leave?" Gi asks, eyeing Wheeler again. "How long have you been thinking —"_

_"Bout six months," he says, sinking back into his chair. He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "Been on my mind."_

_"What's stopping you, then?"_

_He doesn't answer. Linka turns to the front and grips the controls tighter. Heat rises to her cheeks as she almost feels Gi's eyes boring into the back of her head._

_"Wow," Gi says. "Okay. I had no idea some of you were even considering…"_

_"Do you not think about it, Gi?" Kwame asks, treading carefully with his questioning. "You have a family waiting for you at home. You —"_

_"You guys are my family," she says, her voice rising. "Why would I want to —"_

_"All right." Kwame nods. "I understand. I am just putting it out there, so to speak."_

_"I'm not ready," she repeats, her voice a whisper. "I can't believe that some of you are —"_

_Linka glances back again. Gi's body is tucked inwards now, facing the window and her brow is pressed upon it. She's upset._

_The cabin remains silent for a while, passing through white wisps of cloud cover. Land mass is visible beneath them._

_Eventually, the Geo-Cruiser begins its descent, landing in a clearing and Kwame is the first to unbuckle his seat belt. He stands, motioning for Ma-Ti to follow._

_"Shall we go and search for our contact?"_

_Wheeler moves to join them but Kwame shakes his head, gripping his shoulder and gently pushing him back into his seat. "Just give us a moment. Anti-American sentiment is quite high at the moment here."_

_"Not my fault we have an idiot in the White House," Wheeler mutters but he remains where he is. He nods towards Linka. "Russia isn't exactly on North Korea's Christmas card list either."_

_Linka gives him a tight smile and unclasps her belt, heading to the aisle. Gi grabs her bag and heads towards the door, her shoulder brushing Linka's._

_"Are you all right?" Linka asks softly. They pause in the doorway, watching Kwame and Ma-Ti head out into the clearing. "You seem upset."_

_Gi crosses her arms, her teeth pressing upon her lips. "I'm just — I don't know. I wasn't expecting…"_

_"This conversation had to come sooner or later, Gi," Linka says, placing her hand around Gi's shoulders and pulling her in for a quick cuddle. "I am sure you have dreams and aspirations like I do."_

_"Yeah," she laughs, hugging Linka back. "Just wasn't expecting to have to think about them just yet."_

_"I think Kwame is simply wanting to get our perspective." She smiles at Gi reassuringly. "Might be time to start thinking about it, about the life you wish to make for yourself."_

_"My life is wherever you guys are," she says, wiping her eyes. "God. I'm sorry. I've turned into a blubbering wreck. Don't know why."_

_"It is all right."_

_Gi sighs, clutching Linka's hand. "What could possibly beat this? Travelling the world with your best friends?"_

_"Professional chocolate eater?" Linka suggests, raising an eyebrow. "Wine taster?"_

_"Water slide tester?" Gi adds._

_"Drive an ice cream truck." Wheeler's voice pipes up from the back, and the girls giggle, throwing him an amused glance. "Eat the profits."_

_"All right." Gi grins, taking a deep breath and squeezing Linka's hand. "I'm fine."_

_Gi heads out to join Kwame and Ma-Ti who are on the far side of the clearing, speaking to the distant figure Linka assumes to be the contact._

_She hurries back down the aisle to grab her bag from the empty back seat, passing Wheeler. He moves with lightning speed, grabbing her around the waist. She gives a surprised squeal as he drags her down into his lap._

_"Can I help you?" she laughs, regarding him fondly._

_"Nah. I'm good." He pulls her against his chest, holding her close and resting his chin on her shoulder. He nuzzles into her with a heavy sigh, and she can feel his breath, warm and sweet on her neck, prickling her skin. "Just needed a cuddle."_

_She settles herself against him, swinging her legs idly and enjoying the contact. She reaches out, running her fingers gently through his hair. "You need a hair cut, Yankee."_

_"Mmm. Cut it for me tonight?"_

_"So long as we are not languishing in a third world jail?" she teases. "Then, da. I will."_

_"Sweet."_

_She hugs him back, trailing a lazy path through his scalp with her fingernails, enjoying the way his hand has slipped under her shirt, resting against the small of her back. She nestles into him, breathless as his fingers track patterns up and down her skin._

_Things have changed between them. The quips, arguments and dismissive interactions have been replaced by a quiet, mutual affection. There's a tenderness between them, a newfound sense of care and consideration towards one another._

_They seem to be treading a fine line, teetering between friendship and something more, but opportunities to fully explore this have unfortunately been few and far between._

_They've been too busy._

_She slides an arm around his neck, smoothing the hair away from his forehead. He closes his eyes as she trails her touch down the side of his face and behind his ear, tugging gently on his earlobe._

_"I need a vacation," he grumbles, and she nods in agreement. "Sand. Beach. A few pina coladas."_

_"Anything else?"_

_"Wouldn't say no to you in a bikini," he grins, his blue eyes sparkling, and she swats him lightly. "Been a while."_

_"A bikini is dependent on a concept known as free time, Yankee," she teases. "Something we are severely lacking."_

_He grunts in response as she clutches his hair, gently tugging his head back and trapping him there against the head rest. He opens his eyes as she peers down at him with a smile, nose to nose, her hair falling in soft tendrils over his face._

_"So my presence would require a bikini?"_

_"Nah," he says, grinning. "I'd be fine if you were fully clothed."_

_"Oh thank you, Yankee," she scoffs. "How considerate of you."_

_"How 'bout you?" he asks. "Let's say this ended tomorrow. If the Planeteers went bust — where would you go?"_

_She releases him, settling her arms around his neck and cuddling into him again, considering the question carefully. "I would probably begin my University stud —"_

_"Nerd," he says, rolling his eyes. "C'mon babe. You can't tell me you'd launch yourself straight into —"_

_"Santorini," she says softly, nudging his cheek with her nose. "Or Mykonos. Just wandering around and relaxing. That would be my choice."_

_"Greek Islands, huh?"_

_"Mmm hmm," she says a little dreamily. "Not having a time limit or an agenda. Not having to be anywhere. Just waking up each day and exploring."_

_"Fair enough," he replies with a smile. She grins back, hugging him as the sound of the back door opens. Heavy footsteps can be heard passing over the metal floor. Wheeler sighs, tickling her ribs. "Looks like I'm no longer under house arrest."_

_Linka peers over Wheeler's shoulder and she stiffens, gripping Wheeler's shoulder tightly. Her breath catches in her throat._

_A man stands at the end of the aisle, staring around the cabin before his eyes settle on Linka. He's shirtless; dressed in light cotton pants and wearing a straw hat. He's covered in dirt and dust and he's gripping something metallic in his hands._

_"Wheeler?" she whispers, flattening her palms against his chest. "Wheeler, there is someone —"_

_"Balam?" the man says sharply, and Wheeler is on his feet with surprising speed. Linka grunts as she slips off his lap, grabbing hold of the chair in front and narrowly avoiding falling to the floor between the seats._

_"Balam sonyeo?" The stranger's voice has a nasal quality and he sniffs, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. The glint of the knife is visible. "Balam?"_

_Wheeler's hands grip her shoulders, pushing her down before stepping out and shielding her. He flicks his ring on, exposing the flame — a silent threat not to come closer._

_"Blight," he says. The man grins, showing teeth that are black and rotting. He points to his eye and repeats the same word. "Blight."_

_Linka peeks around the side of the backrest. The man hasn't made a move but something isn't right. Wheeler's body language is tense, muscles tightly coiled. Ready to strike but the man simply laughs, pointing the knife in Linka's direction, then tapping the sharp point gently against the corner of his eye again. Linka's heartbeat rises as she spots the blood on the blade._

_"Blight."_

_He turns and strides out, disappearing into the crowd of villagers who have gathered to greet them._

_"Jesus," Wheeler mutters, glancing down at her. He extends his hand and she's pulled to her feet. "Who the fuck was that?"_

_She doesn't answer; her eyes now glued to the spot the man has just vacated._

_"Oh God," she whispers._

_Two once majestic black herons are lying dead on the floor. The neck of one is partially severed; the second has had it's head removed entirely. The blood drips slowly through the grate, pooling in the undercarriage of the aircraft below their lifeless bodies._

_She raises an unsteady hand to her mouth. Wheeler wraps a protective arm around her, and she buries her cheek against his chest, trembling as he leads her out. Ma-Ti is heading towards them, a concerned look on his face but despite the language barrier, the message the man was trying to convey on Doctor Blight's behalf is crystal clear._

* * *

Bleak spat at the cracked ground, crouching down and surveying the compound at the base of the valley below him. Hidden behind twisted shrubs; unaware that he was only a few hundred metres from the spot Wheeler and Ma-Ti had stood, looking down at the same location eleven years before.

The binoculars were laughably weak in terms of magnification. He could only just make out the short bursts of activity beyond the high-security fence line. Distant figures; too far away to make out any distinguishing features but he'd still managed to identify Andrei Kroi the minute his stocky build edged past the semi-trailer; parked in front of the loading dock.

Bastard always did have a peculiar way of walking — an odd lumber; yet his arms were incapable of swinging, hanging by his sides like a couple of concrete pillars.

He narrowed his eyes, wiping the sweat from his brow. There were voices behind him, shrill laughs and he turned and glared at the girls at the other side of the embankment. There were a few others gathered around them; some scattered further away. Every noise and murmur seemed amplified. It made him uncomfortable.

The Water Planeteer and her little buddy were much more subdued. Bunkered down beside one of the vehicles, talking quietly and Bleak's relief was palpable— no longer needing to drag their weight. No longer having to feel responsible for their welfare.

The big guy from Belmont —Tyreece — had rendezvoused with them just outside of Vegas with the fourth team and a rather morbid delivery. Two shrouded objects lie in the shade of the a gnarled bristle-cone pine. Bleak had no illusions as to what was wrapped inside the thick layers of muslin cloth. The bodies had been out in the elements for weeks now and he hoped they were sufficiently dried out enough for the smell to have long since departed.

Another rumble of conversation below him and Bleak cringed, his jaw tense. He was a tactician. Took calculated risks and moved with stealth when the situation called for it. Controlled and agile, he had a talent for staying hidden.

Hard to achieve with the social convention going on behind him. His hand moved to his hip as a twig snapped nearby. He relaxed his grip on the knife as Ma-Ti settled himself beside him.

"They're too loud," Bleak muttered, jacking his thumb over his shoulder. "Gonna get us nabbed. Send 'em away."

Ma-Ti nodded, sending out a silent command and the babble eventually died down. "Anything?"

"Trucks comin' back and forth fairly regularly. Loads are leavin' empty, returnin' with shit. There's a lot of activity around those doors," he said, pointing towards the double-door service entry. "Couple of big guys. Pretty sure I saw my dumb-as-dogshit ex-colleague amongst 'em."

"Kroi?"

"Yeah." He pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing the ground repeatedly. "Mother fucken' bastard. Gonna meet the end of my blade by the time this is through."

Ma-Ti glanced sideways, seemingly interested. "Linka has been dreaming, apparently."

"So?" Bleak straightened, gripping the knife tightly.

Ma-Ti shrugged, nodding towards the latest delivery currently being unloaded — its contents hidden from their view. "She's remembering things. Things she shouldn't be aware of."

"Good for her."

"Just thought you might want to know," he said. "In case certain… details are popping into your head."

"Whatever," he replied. "She and the motor-mouth on their way?"

"Yes, they've just passed through Barstow. Picked up his bike, should hopefully be here by tomorrow." Ma-Ti leaned forward, shielding his eyes from the sun. "You haven't spotted Kwame dragged inside, have you?"

"Nope."

"All right," Ma-Ti muttered, rising to his feet but staying low. "Enlightening conversation, Bleak. I'll leave you —"

"Fucker double-crossed me. "

"What?" Ma-Ti lurched, spinning back around and peering down at him. "Are you —"

"Kroi." Bleak shook his head, stabbing the ground again as Ma-Ti sat back down beside him. "Seein' a lot of shit go down when I close my eyes. Stuff makin' me sick to my stomach."

"Dreams?"

He gave a mirthless laugh. "Not dreams. Fuckin' nightmares. Plunder was doin' a lot more than financin' cheap-ass housing developments and fundin' Blight."

"What do you mean?" Ma-Ti pressed, his tone cautious. "We always suspected —"

"Once Kroi wormed his way in, it all started goin' to hell. Wasn't what I signed up for. Couldn't justify what they were doin', but guess I was no longer needed by then anyway."

"Do you —"

"Over twenty years of loyalty. Meant nothin'." Bleak scowled, shoulders hunched. Eyeing the busy little bees below unloading goods and packages beyond the fence. "It's fucked."

"What are you remembering?"

"He changed Plunder's way of thinking. New business enterprises. Made me sick to my stomach. Takes a lot to make me squeamish, but…" He trailed off, lost in thought.

"Blight?"

"Fuck no," he muttered. "Women. Kroi had certain… compulsions."

"I know," Ma-Ti replied, wincing at the memory. "Linka was on his radar at one point. She barely —"

"At one point?" Bleak threw him a derisive look. "She's the one that got away. Became obsessed. Wanted to —"

"Wanted to what?"

"Forget it." Bleak passed his hand over his head. "Doesn't matter now, anyway."

"Developed a conscience after all those years, Bleak?" Ma-Ti asked quietly and Bleak paused, glaring back at him.

"Didn't work out well for me, did it?" he snapped. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his trousers, trudging carefully down the embankment and leaving Ma-Ti in the cloud of dust kicked up by his scuffed boots.


	38. Chapter 38

_"Sorry?"_

_Gi's lips are moving, but Linka can't hear a thing she's saying. She moves closer, gripping Gi's arm and leaning in as they weave their way through the noisy crowd._

_"I said — I don't think Kwame has a clue where we're going." Gi finishes crunching the shaved ice in her mouth and swallows, tilting her head in Linka's direction. "He looks a little frazzled."_

_"I noticed that," Linka says. Her eyes travel over a wooden cart on the street corner, just visible through the swarming sea of people. "Ooh. Fresh fruit, Gi. Shall we get —"_

_"If we wanna lose Kwame? Then yeah," she says. "The guy's walking like his pants are on fire."_

_"But you got your icy-colored cone thingy," Linka says, unhappy as she glances back at the appetising fruits on display._

_"It's good, too," Gi grins; taking another mouthful. "Raspado. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"_

_"Der'mo," she mutters under her breath. "Remind me to get some on the way back. I am getting tired of all this fast food and —"_

_Linka gasps as she's barged aside by an impatient older woman. She rubs her shoulder, glaring at the woman as she hurries away with her produce._

_"You all right?" Gi asks._

_"Da," she says sullenly._

_The market is packed, bustling with locals and tourists browsing the fresh produce and handicrafts. If they weren't so time-poor, Linka would have loved nothing more than to browse the cobble-stone alleyways, but another tip from yet another contact has put an end to that particular dream._

_They are already fifteen minutes late and dark clouds are rolling in. The rain hasn't started falling yet, but the market customers all seem to be in a hurry regardless — wanting to avoid the impending downpour._

_Gi points to a landmark. "I'm sure we've passed that clocktower before."_

_Linka scratches her head, looking around the crowded market. "We are lost."_

_"We're not lost, babe," a voice says from behind as an arm settles around her shoulders. "We're logistically challenged."_

_"I thought Kwame said he knew where the meeting place was?"_

_"Gotta look for a street corner with a Starbucks. Guy's in a stall runnin' parallel, apparently." Wheeler shrugs, skirting his way around some local street urchins, and Linka is pulled along with him. "Hope the intel on Plunder will be worth it."_

_"It seems suspicious to me," Linka says, ignoring the slurping sound Gi's making as she drains some of the liquid from the base of the cone. "We have never even had dealings with this man before. How do we —"_

_"Contact seems legit," Wheeler says. He dodges several child beggars; their hands outstretched and tugging at his shirt. "Watch your pockets, ladies."_

_Linka clutches her bag close to her chest. Tijuana is a colorful place, bristling with energy but Linka knows she needs to have her wits about her. One moment of distraction is all it takes for a cell-phone, purse or wallet to go missing._

_She folds her arms, feeling the crowd pulse around her. She leans in towards Wheeler; his arm still draped across her shoulders, angling up to say something but a street vendor beats her to it. An old woman in a red tunic is hurrying along by Wheeler's side, surprisingly sprightly for someone of her advanced years._

_The woman has an assortment of silver rings and necklaces encased within a timber frame and she's desperately trying to peddle her wares._

_A silver chain is shoved towards him. "You buy? You buy? Pretty wife want necklace?"_

_"How much you want for it?" he asks. Linka smiles, biting down on her thumb, unable to keep herself from watching the exchange._

_"Real silver," the woman says, jingling the object and nearly getting wiped out by a telegraph pole. She recovers herself and hurries to catch up again. "Thousand pesos."_

_"Aw, hell no!" he exclaims, jacking his thumb towards Linka. "My freakin' wife ain't worth that!"_

_Gi snorts, spraying shaved ice everywhere, and Linka can't help but grin at the woman's confused expression._

_"Five hundred?"_

_"Nope."_

_They press on, leaving the street vendor behind, still calling out offers._

_"Nice," Gi laughs. "Real romeo we have here."_

_"Hey, I'm a man of action. Don't need no trinkets to show —"_

_"Man of action, huh?" Gi retorts, a little incredulous at his choice of words. "Yeah. Okay. That's a good one."_

_He releases Linka and aims a playful slap to Gi's thigh. It hits the mark and Gi reaches across to whack him back. Wheeler winks at them and strides away._

_"You're like the annoying older brother I never had," Gi calls after him._

_"You're like the bratty little sister I never wanted," he calls over his shoulder in a sing-song voice. He disappears into the crowd with a wide grin._

_"He has you there," Linka commented drily. She smiles to herself. "I thought I was going to gain a new necklace for a moment there."_

_"Not your lucky day," Gi laughs. "I say we give it another ten minutes and give up."_

_"I think I see Kwame turning," Linka says, increasing her pace. The scent of coffee grounds waft past and the Starbucks is visible on the corner. "I say we stop for a coffee, too."_

_"Uh huh."_

_"Wild caboose chase."_

_The girls step into the alley. It's crowded with people here too — vendor carts are lining both sides of the sidewalk and shanty-type stores are housed within the buildings behind them. There's not a lot of room to walk. Motorbikes are also passing back and forth at regular intervals, making the street difficult to negotiate._

_Linka passes her way through, shoulder to shoulder with shoppers. Kwame and Wheeler are no longer in sight, and Ma-Ti is somewhere behind them. Linka slows, coming to a sudden stop and waiting for the flow of pedestrian traffic to start moving again._

_The sound of acoustic music can be heard, perhaps street performers somewhere in front of them. Guitars and clapping. She rises to her tiptoes, craning her neck to see over the crowd and catching a glimpse of the band. The back of Kwame's head is just visible, bobbing along in front and she lowers back down again._

_Another motorbike. It slowly weaves it's way through the throng and disappears ahead. She wraps her arms around her bag again, hearing the engine rev and sputter. It idles somewhere nearby._

_A loud crack sounds, and she flinches at the noise. The crowd halts again — suddenly on edge, wary. People are whispering and looking around in confusion. Like deer in the headlights._

_Something isn't right._

_A scream issues from somewhere ahead and a second crack reverberates, louder this time and it's at this point that all hell breaks loose._

_The sedate crowd suddenly turn rabid._

_Linka shrieks as she's knocked to the ground; flailing limbs and panicked people running in all directions. More screams and the sound of a motorbike engine firing up again._

_She looks around wildly, trying to raise herself to her knees, hearing Gi screaming her name and Ma-Ti in her head, pleading with her to stay down. To stay away._

_The bike is louder now, zooming back past with two passengers and people are diving for cover in an attempt to get away from it. She winces as someone treads on her hand and she reefs it towards her, tears springing to her eyes. People are tripping and falling on her in their haste to escape._

_Her second attempt to get moving is successful. She scrambles behind a Tamale cart and clutches the wooden wheel, desperate for a glimpse of her friends. Ring outstretched, ready to face danger but unable to distinguish where the danger might be originating from._

_She spots Gi straight away — inside one of the stores and she's beckoning to Linka frantically. The crowd is clearing and she chances a peek around her hiding spot._

_She can see Kwame on his hands and knees; his face a mask of anguish. He's yelling towards the people still remaining behind. Ma-Ti bolts past her, legs pumping and Linka actually feels the gust of air produced by his sheer momentum. Her attention is redirected — focused upon the figure Ma-Ti is hurtling towards._

_It's the sneakers that give it away._

_The shoes are untied. They're attached to legs; belonging to a body that lies barely moving on the cobblestone road. She stumbles to her feet. A high pitched keening can be heard and her brain barely registers the fact that it's coming from her own mouth._

_"No, no, no, no," she whispers. She breaks into a run, barely noticing Gi following close behind her. "Oh God, no —"_

_"What happened?" Gi cries. "Is he breathing?"_

_"Two bullets," Kwame says. He's hunched over; hands pressing hard against Wheeler's chest. Blood is spreading between Kwame's outstretched fingers and a light sheen of sweat has broken out on his forehead, but he makes no move to wipe it free._

_Linka skids to her knees, positioning herself at Wheeler's head. She reaches out with shaking hands, supporting his neck with one hand and checking his pulse with the other._

_"Yankee, can you hear me?"_

_His eyelids are fluttering — he appears semi-conscious, fingers clenching and unclenching but not at all responsive to her attempts to communicate with him. She lowers her ear to his mouth. His breathing is labored and there's a rattle in his lungs._

_"Yankee? " she whispers, dashing tears away. "Oh God, don't —"_

_"I need help," Kwame grunts, and Ma-Ti moves immediately to help stem the blood. "Pressure here."_

_"Gi, you need to —" Ma-Ti starts, but she's already gone, sprinting into the crowd that's started to gather now that the gunman has vanished. There's a hint of panic rising from Ma-Ti's usual calm exterior. "He's losing a lot of blood, Kwame."_

_"Have you beamed for help?"_

_"I've put the call out for someone with medical training," Ma-Ti says breathlessly, leaning his body weight forward; readjusting his hands and pressing tighter against Wheeler's chest. "I do not know —"_

_Linka takes a shuddering breath; oblivious to the fat tears dropping off her nose and eyelashes. She cradles his head in her hands, tilting his chin in an effort to keep his airway clear. She presses her mouth against his clammy brow. "Oh God, wake up, Yankee. Do not leave me."_

_"Turn him over." Kwame's eyes are focused on the blood spreading onto the stone beneath them. They heave him onto his right side, holding him there as Kwame inspects the damage. "Only one exit wound. Must be a bullet lodged inside."_

_They drop him gently onto his back again and Linka re-checks his breathing. The rattle has increased and she notes with alarm that his lips are turning blue. Blood has appeared in the corner of his mouth and his freckles are standing out more than they should be._

_She's frantic — bordering on hysterical. The methodical, analytical side of her brain has simply ceased functioning. All she can focus on is the blood and the deep rattle resonating from Wheeler's chest._

_"Kwame? I do not know what else to —"_

_"Is he still breathing?"_

_"It is shallow," she cries, wiping her eyes and looking around desperately for help that was not forthcoming. "Where are the —"_

_"Do we move him?" Ma-Ti says. "Kwame, he doesn't look good, he needs —"_

_"We need to roll him over again," she interrupts, tilting his head gently to the side as more blood trickles from his mouth. "He's going to —"_

_Wheeler's body shudders, involuntary spasms wracking his body. She knows he can't breathe. His lungs are filling with blood, and air is filling his chest cavity. He's choking now; a fine red mist spraying from his mouth._

_"Roll him over!" she yells as she grips his shoulder, helping the men to heave him onto his side again. "Bullet side down, he is drowning!"_

_His body is completely limp now. She sobs quietly, smoothing his hair, his face, trying to make him comfortable — a redundant effort but it's all she can do for him now._ _She watches Kwame adjust his grip on Wheeler's shoulder blade while Ma-Ti maintains pressure on the chest._

_"Hold on, Yankee," she whispers, eyeing the red and blue lights in the distance, illuminating the alleyway. "Do not even think about leaving us."_

_"He's bleeding out," Kwame says. His brown eyes are wide and unfocused — frantic — scanning the crowd and pressing harder on the wound._

_Linka eyes search the crowd that has edged forward again. Curious onlookers. A wave of anger hits her and she wants to scream at them, beseech them to do something. To do anything other than stand there gawking; pointing and whispering to one another._

_The sound of running footsteps. Gi is sprinting back, skidding to a stop and watching her teammates. She looks grief-stricken, pacing nervously and wiping away tears._

_After what seems like an eternity, the crowd parts to make way for the paramedics. Linka catches a glimpse of the vehicle and her heart sinks._

_The ambulance is a beat-up panel-van. It looks woefully old-fashioned, and the thought occurs to her that the medical technology at their disposal will be anything but modern. The paramedics are talking to Ma-Ti who has his ring raised, using his power to communicate in firm but urgent tones._

_Linka crouches over Wheeler again, whispering to him. Reassuring him — though she's acutely aware that he can no longer hear her. His face is turning an ashen-grey colour. Even as the paramedics drop to the ground and cut his shirt away from his body, she refuses to leave._

_The man quickly works to cover the wounds with a plastic bandage — sealing three edges and leaving the fourth loose. The female paramedic produces a large needle with a valve mechanism, and Linka looks away, knowing the procedure required for a collapsed lung._

_"Linka?"_

_"What?" she says harshly, still focused on the pool of blood forming underneath Wheeler's body._

_Gentle hands press firmly upon her arms, urging her upwards. Kwame is crouched behind her. "Let them do their job."_

_"Nyet," she says, shaking him off as she cradles Wheeler's head in her hands. "I am not in the way. I want him to know I was here when he —"_

_"There is nothing more you can do for him," he says, gripping her under the armpits and lifting her to her feet. "You need to —"_

_"Get off me!" she suddenly shrieks, shoving him away angrily and resuming the same position. "Just leave me be!"_

_Kwame pays her no heed, hauling her up off the ground again. Her feet scuff the bloodied pavement as he drags her clear. His arms tighten around her waist as she tries to fight him off, slapping and clawing at his arms; fingernails digging painfully into his skin._

_"Linka."_

_His voice is hushed and soothing in her ear; at odds with the pandemonium going on around them. Linka finally slumps in Kwame's arms, burying her face in her hands and sobbing quietly. He wraps his arms around her; holding her tightly, keeping one eye trained on the scene on the ground._

_The aspiration seems to be complete. They're draining the air from his chest cavity now, pulling out plastic tubing and bandages, as well as getting an IV set up. A second ambulance has arrived and a stretcher is being brought out. It's laid down alongside his body and they shift his weight onto the rigid plastic._

_They lift Wheeler into the nearest ambulance and one of the paramedics approaches Ma-Ti again, talking quietly. Linka raises her head, peering over Kwame's shoulder and watching Ma-Ti's face tense up with each passing moment. He passes a hand over his head, unknowingly streaking blood through his hair as he walks towards them._

_"He's critical. They are going to try to stabilise him at a hospital here, then transfer him up to Florida. They want someone to ride along for identification purposes and to provide next of kin details on the way."_

_"Oh God." Kwame glances down at the top of Linka's head. "Do you want —"_

_He doesn't even need to ask the question. Linka has already stepped away, wiping her eyes and hurrying towards the waiting ambulance._

* * *

"You only had to look at me with those goddamn puppy-dog eyes," Wheeler said with a wry smile. "And you'd be like  _Nathan, do not even think about buying this stereo, we do not need it._ I'd fold like a fuckin' accordion."

"Nathan? That was your new name?"

"Yep," he replied. "Nathan Bennett. I wanted Mike Wiener, but you wouldn't let me."

She snorted. "What? Wheeler, you —"

"Harvey Wallbanger was on the list. Zeke Falafelbutt."

She collapsed into a fit of giggles. "Oh God," she gasped. "You cannot be —"

"Maximus Overkill. Duke Manrod was up there. Manly names."

Linka's face flushed red as she got herself under control.

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she whispered, wiping away tears. "You are inedible."

"What?" he laughed, squinting at her. "Nah. Can't even begin to decipher that one, babe."

She grinned back at him, nudging his bare feet with her own; her lower body already tucked snugly into her sleeping bag. She looked around the cramped compartment, thankful that they'd come across the truck stop before the bike's broken lamp failed to light the way any longer.

They'd been on the road for several days. An unhitched cab belonging to a semi-trailer was serving as their shelter for the night. The cabin was obviously designed for long-haul journeys, with a sleeping compartment behind the drivers seat.

She reached for a graham cracker, courtesy of yesterday's trip to Walmart and she chewed on it thoughtfully. "My name was Rachel,  _da_?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. You dream that?"

" _Nyet,_ " she said. "Ma-Ti mentioned it."

"Oh," he said.

"Did I always call you Nathan?"

"Only in public," he said. "It was pretty much 'Yankee' and 'Babe' in private. Nothin' much changed in that respect."

"Did we keep the same names? At least until…" She gestured helplessly, unable to vocalise the rest of the sentence.

"Yeah. Kept the same first names, anyway. Changed our surnames when we moved to England, though."

"Because we —"

"We were compromised. We'd hoped that maybe they'd given up, but…" He shrugged, looking away.

"How did you find out that Kroi had found —"

"You knew his pseudonyms. He had several aliases and you tracked his movements. Blight's too. His name was flagged as soon as he entered New Zealand."

"Auckland," she murmured to herself. "How long were we there for?"

"Four years."

"Mmm." She popped another graham cracker into her mouth, watching him slip inside his own sleeping bag and shuffle himself down; stretching out on the thin mattress. She mirrored his movements, rolling onto her side and watching his profile, illuminated by the light coming from his ring. "Why Auckland?"

"Cuz it was on the other side of the world. Guess I hoped they wouldn't find us."

"How did we end up there?"

"Got a job offer when you were around six months pregnant, so we grabbed it." He shrugged, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. "Needed somewhere to call home, anyway. We'd spent the twelve months prior on the road. No real fixed address, just bummin' around."

"Oh." She brushed away some cookie crumbs from the corner of her lips, clutching her sleeping bag to her chest. "Did you like it there, too?"

"Yeah, it was great. New homes. Our front yard looked out over the mountains. Really beautiful. Hot in the summer, and we'd get snow in the winter. Just about the whole street would get out there on the weekends and sled down the hills."

"It sounds lovely."

"Couldn't ski though — too many hidden rocks and obstacles." He reached for the end of her messy plait, flicking her cheek lightly. "Found that out the hard way."

"I am sure you did."

"Took a tumble into a creek-bed." He tickled her nostrils with her hair and she sneezed, slapping him lightly. He didn't let go, his blue eyes focussed on the bound tresses. "That's one thing I missed."

"Annoying me?" she asked in a low voice, and he scoffed, tugging gently.

"Nah," he muttered. "Always loved your hair."

"Really?" she whispered, eyes bright. "Why?"

"Used to sit there in the Geo-Cruiser. Day-dreamin'. Wondering what it would be like to…" He didn't finish, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Don't mind me. Gettin' all sentimental."

Rolling over onto her stomach, she braced herself on her elbows as she observed him. He was staring up at the ceiling, looking lost in thought.

"Has it been as difficult as you thought it would be?" she asked softly. "Having me here again? You seemed so angry with me at first."

"Gettin' easier. Didn't think I could do it. Dragged up a lot of shit. I spent a lot of time…"

Linka watched his face as he struggled to verbalise his feelings. "Time?"

"I dunno," he said with a sigh. "I guess at first I held a lot of anger towards you after you died."

"Anger?" She blinked, not expecting that. "What do you mean? Surely you did not blame —"

"I guess in the beginning I did."

She stared down at him, confused. "I did not poison myself, Yankee? I do not understand, how could you blame —"

"Gi had no clue of knowing where we were. You knew that. You were always so careful. So clever. I guess I wracked my brain as to how you could fall for it. The letter should have raised a lot of red flags."

"Are you serious?" she asked, incredulous. "How can you —"

"How can I what, Linka?" he said, glaring at her. "Be entitled to my opinion? I'm just supposed to —"

"I did not ask for this, Yankee," she said, her emotions rising. " _She_  did not ask for any of it, you cannot —"

"And you don't get to have any input into the way I  _feel_ , Linka," he said sharply, and she recoiled. "You didn't live this. You can't ask me to validate —"

"You are lying there, blaming my future self for dying!"

"I never said I blamed you for dying. I said I blamed you for falling for it!"

"It is the same thing!"

"It's not the same fuckin' thing," he said, exasperated. "Spent six years bustin' my ass to keep you safe and you waltz out into the rain — with the kids in tow, mind you — without even a second thought!"

" _Chert voz'mi,_ Wheeler _,"_ she moaned. "I cannot believe you are —"

"And once again — I have no control over the way I feel, Linka," he snapped. He was struggling to calm down. She could see his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. "You haven't lived this — I have!"

"I didn't get to live this either!" she said angrily. "How can you be angry with her for —"

"I had every right to be angry — I'd just lost my wife! I was pissed off with the world! Pissed off with her. With Blight and Gaia. With Kwame and the rest of 'em. Wanted nothin' to do with them. Kept my distance, no matter how hard they tried to contact me. Only thing that kept me goin' were the kids!"

"Oh Wheeler," she whispered. Guilt was hitting her hard. "I am sorry, I should not have —"

"Fuckin' hell," he said, rubbing his brow and glaring out the window. "Yeah, I was angry. I was bitter, but I was also grieving. Can't blame me for that, too."

"I know." She nodded, embarrassed and ashamed, because he was absolutely correct. She had no right to question his feelings. "I am sorry, Wheeler. It is none of my —"

"You haven't lived this," he repeated, softer this time. "You haven't had to tell a devastated five year old that her Mommy's not comin' home. You haven't had to raise two kids as a single parent. Haven't had to close bank accounts and notify people. Haven't had to plan a funeral. Choose a fuckin' coffin."

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

"Haven't had everything you've worked so hard for literally disappear overnight. Haven't had to take responsibility for two little people. And I honor and cherish that responsibility and bein' here takes me away from that."

"It is why you have stayed away," she said, having a greater understanding of his complex reaction to seeing her again. "Why you were hesitant to come."

"I won't make 'em orphans," he said. He glanced up at her, reaching out and tracing her cheek with his fingers. "You grew up up without your mother. Lost your pop young. All those dreams —all the studyin' and the plans you had — they went out the window from the moment you fell pregnant. All you wanted was to be home with them. To be there with them. To give them the childhood you never had, and in the end it didn't matter anyway. You're still not here."

She laid her head back down on the mattress and nodded, tears prickling her eyes.

He rolled over to face her, settling his unflinching gaze on her. "And then there's you. Comin' from a point and a time in your life when I was just the smart-ass crackin' jokes in the seat behind you."

"That is not true," she whispered, but her heart told her otherwise. "I did not know —"

"Yeah, ya did," he said, but he smiled all the same. "You knew how I felt about you. You told me everything."

She cleared her throat, her face heating up. "All right."

He drew the sleeping bag up around his chin. She reached forward, gliding her thumb over the stubble covering his face.

"Will you be all right when I am gone again?"

"I think I'll be okay, you know." He sighed, closing his eyes at her intimate touch. "But I do miss you."

She smiled, stroking her fingers tenderly through his hair.

"I miss the smell of your shampoo on the pillows. I miss your hair cloggin' up the drain. I miss the weird shit you used to do when you were pregnant."

"Like what?"

He chuckled. "Cleaned your teeth with moisturising cream. Lost your car keys for three days — ended up findin' them in the freezer. Locked yourself outta the house multiple times."

"Oh God," she laughed, her curiosity piqued. "Really?"

He smirked. "You cried a lot in the third trimester of both pregnancies. Really emotional. Cried if the dinner was a little overcooked, or when you were watching your documentaries. I remember you bawlin' your eyes out when a lid wouldn't fit on it's container. Broke down if you were cutting sandwiches and one half looked bigger that the other."

"Really?"

"Came home and found you on the floor one day, sobbin' over a broken egg."

She scoffed, grinning at him. "That does not sound like something I would do."

He smiled back, snuggling closer and nudging her forehead with his own. "I miss you fuckin' up the words to the kids nursery rhymes."

"Oh," she said, laughing. "That I can believe."

"Hannah would go to playgroup singin' these weird variations. Got into a punch-up with an older kid who dared tell her she was singin'  _Mary had a Little Lamb_  wrong."

"So she has both our personalities, I see?" she laughed.

"Mmm," he said, tugging her plait gently. "Won't have to worry about any of this if we get you back, though."

"I do not mind some aspects of this future," she admitted. "I could get used to some things."

"No more Blight. Nothin' will go to shit. You can re-write your future."

"If I can get back," she said. "But —"

"Won't have to disappear and leave everyone else behind. Wont have to seduce me in a random hotel bathroom."

"What!" she laughed, flushing bright red. "I did what?"

"Won't have to marry me on a beach in Santorini," he said softly.

"Santorini?" she whispered. "Really?"

He rolled over without warning, settling his warm weight on top of her. She blinked up at him wordlessly as his fingers skated through her hairline, trailing down her skin and under her chin. She closed her eyes, feeling his mouth brushing her cheek.

"Won't have to put up with my bad jokes and constantly puttin' my hands on you."

"I do not mind your bad jokes," she offered with a shy smile.

"Hmph," he said, reaching around and removing the elastic band tying her hair. She tilted her head to the side, allowing him easier access as he raked his fingers through the strands until they lay loose and tousled around her. "You can go find yourself a doctor, or a lawyer. Move on with someone who has brains and a better temperament."

"I would not want that," she whispered. She grinned, hugging him as he buried his face in her hair with a heavy sigh. "I guess I have a thing for smart asses who cannot keep their hands to themselves."

"Hmph," he said, slipping his hand underneath her and squeezing her bottom. She yelped, laughing and wriggling beneath him.

"And maybe you can take your own advice, Yankee. Maybe it is time for you to also move on."

"Easier said than done," he said.

"What is stopping you?" she asked gently, turning her face towards his, her nose nudging his cheek. "Other than my being here again? I —  _she_  would have wanted you to move on. To meet someone else."

He smiled sadly. "Datin' scene ain't what it used to be."

"I like Grace," she said slyly, raising her eyebrows. "She wishes to return to her home eventually. Maybe she could return with you?"

"Christ," he muttered into her hair. His breath tickled her ear and she couldn't help but laugh. "Is that the little brunette chick who acts all weird around me?"

" _Da_ ," she replied. "That would be her."

"I dunno." He paused, withdrawing from the soft comfort of her hair, seeming to considering her words. "It feels unfinished with you, ya know? I guess I felt denied… never got the chance to say goodbye. That's been the hardest, I think."

"Gaia said I had been given a second chance. Maybe this is your chance, too?" she said solemnly. "Maybe having me back is a way to say goodbye?"

He stared down at her for a moment, teeth pressing upon his lip and an unreadable expression on his face.

He nodded slowly, pressing a kiss against Linka's cheek before abruptly rolling back off her. He settled down beside her, tugging the sleeping bag up over his shoulders and flicking his ring off. The cabin went dark and the cold air rushed back in, settling over the places their bodies had been touching. She shivered, missing his comforting warmth and the hard line of his body on hers.

“I'm gonna catch some shut-eye before I do somethin' I might regret."

"Would you regret it if we did?" she asked quietly, a little stunned that the words had come out of her mouth to begin with. She swallowed nervously, turning over and settling her hand against his chest. "Would it help?"

Wheeler didn't respond. She waited in silence, hearing nothing but the sound of her own heart beating rapidly.

"I mean, I just… I think," she stammered, blundering on awkwardly, self-conscious about his lack of response. "I am just saying that I am happy to… I want to… uh, what I mean is that I am open to it. Wait — that did not come out right," she whispered, shaking her head. "If it will help."

"Uh huh," he finally said, and even in the darkness, she knew he was grinning at her discomfort.

"I understand if you do not wish to… But if it helps you to… Oh, I am no good at this," she said, feeling her face heating up. "Ugh _,_ I keep making it worse."

"Yeah," he said, highly amused.

"Shut up, Yankee," she grumbled, flipping onto her back again and folding her arms across her chest. "That is the last time I offer —"

The rest of her sentence came out as a muffled gasp as he leaned over and captured her lips with his own. He cradled her face in his hands, deepening the contact. His mouth was warm and soft, and she gave a breathy sigh of disappointment as he eventually broke away. He looked down at her quietly, pressing the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip.

"Thank you for the kind offer," he said, grinning. "I appreciate it."

"You are welcome," she murmured, still equal parts embarrassed by her proposition and dazed from his kiss. "I think."

He rose up and unzipped his sleeping bag, patting the spot beside him. "I'll settle for a cuddle, though?"

A moment's hesitation and her mind was made up. She wriggled out of her own bag and shuffled forward eagerly, settling herself into the crook of his arm. He pulled the covers up over their bodies, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her body closer towards him.

"Can't guarantee I won't try to feel you up a little," he whispered, burying his face in her neck. "Just forewarnin' you."

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and holding him tightly. "I will keep that in mind."


	39. Chapter 39

_She peers down at him worriedly, tucking her hair behind her ear as Kwame paces back and forth at the foot of the bed. A nurse stands close to the IV, checking Wheeler's vitals._

_"He's doing great, guys," the nurse says softly, giving them a smile as she leaves the room; closing the door behind her. "Won't be long."_

_The surgery went well. Arteries and blood vessels have been repaired and the wound has been cleaned. The drugs are in the process of clearing his system — they're now waiting for him to wake up._

_Ma-Ti is asleep in the spare bed in the next cubicle, and Gi has gone to get another coffee. Linka's not sure how many she's up to, but the Water Planeteer has been bouncing off the walls for the past two days._

_Linka sighs, dropping into the seat beside Wheeler. She hunches over him, running her finger along the ridge of his nose. There's an eyelash clinging to the outer area of his eyelid and she rubs it away gently._

_She sweeps her eyes over his face. He looks like a little boy; red hair tousled over his forehead. Usually clean-shaven, he has stubble covering the lower part of his face and neck. She reaches out, feeling the roughened texture beneath her thumb._

_"He awake?"_

_Gi has returned, clutching a steaming cup in one hand and a rolled up magazine in the other. She plonks herself on the end of Wheeler's bed._

_"No " Linka replies, giving Gi a tired smile. "Nurse said it will not be long."_

_"Why don't you take a break, Linka," Kwame says, pausing his frenetic pacing to look at her with sympathetic eyes. "Get some sleep. We can let you know if —"_

_She shakes her head, folding her arms on the narrow armrest and resting her chin there. "It is fine," she says, stifling a yawn._

_"There's a guy in Emergency," Gi says, taking a sip of her coffee. "Got a certain something stuck in something. Pretty entertaining down there. Crowd's gathered."_

_"Something stuck in something?" Linka says, bewildered. "What are you —"_

_"Vacuum cleaner hose," Gi volunteers, hiding a smile. She raises her eyebrows. "Hoping the suction was worth it."_

_Kwame snorts loudly, clapping his hand to his mouth. His cackling is infectious, and soon they're all wheezing with laughter._

_"Oh, goodness," Kwame says, rubbing his face. He's grinning — a load has been lifted off their shoulders. It's the first light moment they've had since the shooting. "That is hilarious."_

_"I thought so," Gi says, grinning more at Kwame's reaction than anything else. "Should have seen the nurses trying to keep a straight face."_

_"I am sure they have seen a great deal worse," he says. He shakes his head, pulling the curtain back and settling himself in the chair beside Ma-Ti. He nods towards Wheeler. "Pity he is not awake. I doubt he would have passed up the opportunity to run down and witness that."_

_"Da," Linka says, reaching for Wheeler's hand and clutching it tightly. She runs her thumb over his knuckles, stroking his long fingers. "He would have insisted on a front row seat."_

_"When are we back to work?" Gi asks, eying Kwame._

_"I do not know," he admits. "Let us call it an indefinite break."_

_"You mean —"_

_"I think we need to have a long conversation once he is discharged," Kwame says softly, and Linka closes her eyes. She knows what that means. "I think we have officially reached the point of no return."_

_She glances at Gi, noting the stiffened body language. Gi looks away, concentrating on the contents of her cup of coffee and biting her lip._

_Linka sighs, turning back towards the bed. Wheeler's blue eyes are wide open and staring at Kwame._

_“Wheeler?" she whispers, her heart racing. Linka grins, squeezing his hand tightly, overjoyed to see him finally awake. "Yankee, how are you feel —"_

_"Where am I?" he rasps, wetting his lips. His voice is slurred; thick with sleep, and Kwame rises and steps forward, relief etched on his face._

_"You are in the hospital, my friend," Kwame replies. "You were —"_

_"Meetin' him at the pool," Wheeler mumbles, glancing around in confusion. He raises his hand in the air, flopping it around as he stares at the tubes trailing down. "We're goin' swimmin'."_

_"Uh huh," Gi says, patting his leg affectionately. "Okay then. Good to see you awake, Wheeler."_

_"You a doctor?" he asks Gi, and she shakes her head, amused by his current condition._

_"Uh… no champ."_

_"Oh," he says. He tries sitting up, and both Linka and Gi move to gently push him back down again. He falls back against the pillows, raising a shaky hand to his eyes. "Did I miss the game? Coach'll tear my hide if —"_

_"Is this normal?" Linka peers at Kwame worriedly. "He does not sound right."_

_"I guess it is the sedatives," Kwame says, shrugging. "Probably going to be —"_

_"Where's Mom?"_

_Linka blinks, glancing at the others. "She is not here yet, Yankee."_

_"Oh." His blue eyes are unfocused. "She asked me to get…"_

_"Get what, Yankee?"_

_"Can't remember," he mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing in pain and staring down at his chest. "What the hell —"_

_"Glad to see you back with us." Ma-Ti is awake now. He swings his legs around and sits on the edge of the bed, watching on. "You had us very worried, my friend."_

_"What happened," Wheeler says. Moments of clarity seem to be pushing through the disorientation. He tries again to sit up and Linka gently pushes him back down. He gives up. "I'm in the hospital? Feels like I've been hit by a truck."_

_"You were shot," Ma-Ti says. "Twice in the chest. We nearly lost you."_

_"Lost? I don't remember?" Wheeler says, staring hard at Kwame. "You get a haircut, Deon?"_

_"I think we might continue this conversation tomorrow," Kwame says with a smile. "You seem a little out of it."_

_"He's higher than a kite," Gi volunteers._

_"Are you sure this is normal?" Linka asks, peering down at him worriedly. "He may have hit his —"_

_"Oh, wow." Wheeler's attention finally focuses on Linka. He narrows his eyes, squinting up at Linka's face with a goofy smile . He squeezes her hand, and she can't help but grin back at him. "Holy crap, you're gorgeous."_

_"Uh, thank you," she replies. Her hair floats above him and he reaches out; attempting to grasp the thick strands and missing by several inches. He pinches the air instead. "Are you sure you —"_

_"What's your name?" he asks, and Linka's trying so hard not to smile at the expression on his face. He gestures wildly in the air again. "Geez. Hot nurses. Seriously, I'd sell both my kidneys for a night with —"_

_"Oh God," Gi laughs. "He's fine."_

* * *

_"That looks disgusting," Gi says, wrinkling her nose as the lunch trolley is wheeled away. "Sloppy peas and rubbery steak."_

_"Who cares," Wheeler grumbles, concentrating hard on cutting his unpalatable meat with the provided cutlery. "I'm starvin'. So over the slop they've been feedin' me."_

_Gi nods towards the food he's now attempting to hack into. His movements are cautious, wincing due to the painful, restricted movements through his shoulders and arm._

_"Want me to cut it up for you, princess?"_

_"Fuck you, buttercup." Wheeler springs the middle finger on her. "I'm hungry."_

_"I doubt you are going to fade away, Yankee," Linka says, patting his thigh. She's seated beside him on the bed, thrilled to see him looking so well. He's sitting up — the color has returned to his face and he looks so much better than the days before._

_"Anyone willin' to spring me a burger?" Wheeler asks, leaning back against the pillows and pushing the plate away untouched. "Gonna waste away to nothin' here."_

_"I have some tic tacs in my purse?" Linka says, and he nods eagerly. She reaches across him to gather up her handbag from the bedside table, rummaging around for the orange candies._

_He downs the half-empty box in two mouthfuls. "Any leads on who tried to turn me into swiss cheese?"_

_"Do you want the official or unofficial version?" Ma-Ti asks and Wheeler shrugs._

_"Surprise me."_

_"Mexican authorities are saying it's a robbery gone wrong."_

_"Bullshit," Wheeler mutters. "Bastard came nowhere near me."_

_"The contact was a fake," Kwame says. "We are ninety percent sure it was Plunder. He set up the meeting, had the getaway driver ready. We think the plan was to take one of us out."_

_"You drew the short straw," Linka whispers, and Wheeler glances at her knowingly._

_"Jesus," he says, his face pale. "Pissed him off a few too many times, I guess."_

_"Got a talent for it," Gi says._

_"Okay," he says, shaking his head. "Jesus."_

_"Any idea when you are being discharged?"_

_"Few days, maybe." Wheeler settles back against the pillow with a resigned sigh. His bare arm nudges Linka's and she settles her head against his good shoulder, eyeing his wound. "Drain's hopefully gettin' removed this afternoon. Just wanna get the hell outta here."_

_"Gaia wants to meet with us," Ma-Ti says. "We think she's going to disband the Planeteers."_

_"It is getting too dangerous," Kwame adds. "When you're well enough, we'll need to have a team meeting. Just forewarning you."_

_Wheeler nods, and Kwame moves to stand, reaching forward to shake his hand._

_"Anyway," he says, "We'll come by again tomorrow."_

_"Good luck with the drain," Ma-Ti adds._

_"Yeah. Highlight of my totally fucked-up week," Wheeler says sarcastically._

_Kwame and Ma-Ti wave, heading out together, and Gi moves to follow. She pauses, hovering in the doorway; evidently waiting for Linka who has made no move to leave Wheeler's side._

_"Meet you back there, Lin," she says. She turns and her footsteps echo down the corridor._

_They sit in silence for a while. She's relaxed and comfortable, even more so when Wheeler slings an arm across her shoulders and hugs her tightly._

_"You all right?" he asks quietly._

_She nods. "Da."_

_"Kwame said you've got another meetin' with those CIA goons?"_

_"Tomorrow." She cuddles into him, pillowing her cheek against his chest, eyeing the bandage and the tube held in place with adhesive tape. "They are in damage control now. I am not sure what help I can be."_

_"Still worried they'll upload the virus?"_

_"They are exploring other options at the moment," she says. "They have pushed the virus aside, thank goodness."_

_"Mmm," he replies, tipping his chin against the crown of her head. "Sure you're all right? You're really quiet."_

_"Am I not always quiet?" she says, a hint of a smile on her face._

_"I dunno," he says. "You haven't bugged me about the physio exercises I'm meant to be doin'. Or that I'm not drinkin' enough water. Haven't nagged me about —"_

_She scoffs. "You do not need me to —"_

_He gestures towards the copious amounts of floral bouquets lining the windows and bench space. "Or why I have bunches of flowers from chicks I've never heard of."_

_"What?" she laughs, reaching across him to grab the small card hanging off the basket of flowers on his bedside table. She reads the message. "Who is Jess?"_

_He shrugs. "Told ya — never heard of most of 'em."_

_She tosses the card back and settles down, eyeing his chest again. "You scared me half to death."_

_"Tryin' to tell me you were worried about me?" he teases in a low voice, and she nods, choosing not to deny it._

_"I thought you were going to die," she says huskily, wiping her face, and his arm tightens around her. "I thought we were going to lose you."_

_"Too stubborn for that," he says, dropping his mouth to the crown of her head. "Can't get rid of me that easily, babe."_

_"Evidently not."_

_"You plannin' on hangin' around?"_

_"Do you mind?" she says, her tone hopeful. "I can go if —"_

_"Got a date with an x-ray," he says, poking his chest tube. "Then an evening watchin' trashy soaps on TV if you're down with that?"_

_"Da," she replies happily, eager to enjoy his presence and his company. She's missed him. "I am 'down' with that."_

_"Oh," he says, nodding towards the bedside table. "Nurses found somethin' in my pocket when they air-lifted me in. Think it's yours."_

_She frowns, curious as she reaches over him, opening the small draw. "I don't remember giving you anything?"_

_"Nah. Pretty sure it's yours."_

_There's a satin bag inside, no bigger then the palm of her hand. She reaches for it and peeks inside. "No, I definitely did not —"_

_A small glint of silver. She opens it fully, pulling out a delicate silver chain, similar to the one she saw at the market._

_"Oh my God," she breathes. "Yankee, when did —"_

_"I'd actually grabbed one for you earlier in the day. Before… well, you know," he says softly, taking the chain from her and draping it around her neck. "Before ‘Plunder and Co’ used me for target practice."_

_She grins up at him, delighted. "I cannot believe…"_

_"Was plannin' on puttin' it under your pillow. Obviously didn't get the chance."_

_"You did not have to do this," she whispers, tipping her head forward as he pulls her hair aside. The gentle brush of his fingers on her skin sends a pleasurable thrill through her. She can't stop smiling, rubbing the chain between her thumb and index finger as he fastens the clasp. "I do not know what to say."_

_"Doesn't mean we're engaged or nothin," he says self-consciously, and she giggles, blushing. He settles back against the pillows, pulling her with him; their hands now entwined together within her lap._

_"Thank you," she says. "I love it."_

_He shrugs, tracing the inside of her wrist with his thumb, and her skin tingles pleasantly. She gazes down; her lips parted as his gentle touch leaves her breathless and mesmerised._

_"You were worth a thousand pesos after all."_

* * *

Kwame had no concept of time. It was dark here. Damp. There was an acrid smell in the air. It was heavy; invading his lungs. The smell of chemicals and something else. Something unpleasant: biological.

Every now and then he'd get the sense that there was someone else in here. Scampering sounds, or the odd muffled scrape. Faint noises and voices but for the most part, the pit was silent.

He grunted, struggling against the ropes but it was no use. His hands were tied behind his back and he was tethered to a link in the wall. A coughing fit tore through him and he heaved, gagging at having to inhale so much of the noxious air.

Filtered light appeared, causing him to blink. Unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, he squinted in the darkness. The light vanished just as quickly but he was certain someone else was with him now. He could hear steady breathing.

Kwame swallowed nervously. A shuffling noise could be heard, almost a slither. Something dragging.

The hackles on the back of his neck rose. Heart rate increasing, adrenaline pumping through his system. Pitch black greeted him, but his other senses were on overdrive trying to compensate for the lack of vision.

A laugh. A feminine titter and Kwame's blood ran cold. The slithering noise stopped, followed by a solid _thump._ Slow, careful footsteps and Kwame recoiled as a hand skated over his thigh.

"Jesus," he hissed in fright. That feminine titter sounded again and the voice was alarmingly close now, right in front of him.

"Not Jesus," came the whispered response. The hand travelled upwards, crawling with stomach-churning grace up his chest before gripping his chin firmly. "But I am the Messiah."

The voice was smooth and sultry and Kwame's heart sank. He was under no illusions as to who he was with.

"Blight?" Kwame asked. Doing his best to maintain his outwardly calm exterior when inside he was shaking in terror. Something didn't feel right. "What are you —"

"I am the Messiah," she repeated. He shuddered in revulsion as she leaned forward, still gripping his chin and forcing his head to the side. The featherlight touch of her lips whispered over his exposed throat and for a moment he squeezed his eyes shut, certain she was about to rip his throat out.

"The Messiah?" Kwame said. He recoiled, desperate to get away but unable to avoid her unwelcome advances. " What do you —"

"I am the one. I have been chosen," she said simply, leaning back. He could feel her breath on his face in the darkness. "Revolution is coming, dear boy."

"Revolution?"

"I will lead them," she whispered. "We will start again."

"By killing everyone?" He gritted his teeth in anger. "You have spent the past two years trying to obliterate us. Why would you —"

"To create, you must first destroy."

"We are already destroyed," he seethed. "Your program saw to that —"

"AND YOUR LITTLE BITCH HELPED DESTROY  _HIM_!" she screamed and Kwame jumped in fright, kicking out at her blindly. "HE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME!

"He was a computer program gone rogue," Kwame said. "They had no choice but to —"

"I sure fixed Blondie," she whispered. Her breath was hot against his face and he turned away, nearly gagging. "Those little brats belong to her?"

"Yes," he seethed. "You —"

"Too bad," she purred. "Mommy was naughty. Shouldn't have crossed me."

"You know that's not true," Kwame said. "You always blamed her. It was misplaced, it always was. The CIA —"

"You're all going to burn. It's my greatest creation yet."

"God, Blight. What have you done?"

"Ruined me."

"You ruined yourself, Blight!" he retorted. "You have well and truly —"

"I will lead them. I will save them. The great fire is coming."

"They'll stop you," he said, panic rising. Sweat was coating on his brow. "Linka included. You're not going to —"

"Life will rise from the ashes," Blight whispered. "And once that carbon-copy brat has served her purpose, I'll take great pleasure in wringing her little fucking neck."

A match flared in the darkness and Kwame blinked, unaccustomed to the light. The match hovered; coming to rest in front of him and Blight's face grinned beyond it.

"Oh my God," Kwame moaned.

Barbara Blight was bald. Blistering sores and scars now marked her entire face. Her skin was pale and her lips were dry and cracked. Cloudy cataracts were present in both of Doctor Blight's eyes.

"I am the Messiah," she grinned, showing dark, rotting teeth. "I will lead them."

"If only MAL could see you now," he said softly, staring at Blight with revulsion. "What a disappointment you must be."

The smile faltered. Her face contorted with rage and fury. She grabbed Kwame's face and slammed his head into the wall, and for a moment stars burst forth as he recovered from the shock. The match whittled down and her face flickered, light dancing around him.

Blight stood up and he winced as she kicked him hard in the ribs. She turned and sauntered off, striking a few matches and tossing them carelessly towards him. Red embers glowed bright, illuminating a mass of clothing around him.

Kwame shuffled forward as far as the chain would allow, stamping the matches out with the heel of his boot, desperate to avoid a fire. His breath caught as he spotted a wax-like hand peeking out from beneath a jacket nearby. Another hand to his right, along with someone's foot. Kwame scrambled backwards as a pile of pallid faces glowed in the dying light.

Mountains of naked department store mannequins were lying twisted and discarded around him — half-melted, some burnt. Blackened limbs and eternally-vague smiles, they were all defaced or marked in some way.

"I will lead them. I will free all of you." Her voice carried through the stillness.

Taking short, shallow breaths, Kwame did his best to calm himself as darkness settled over him again. The door closed softly behind Blight, leaving him alone and terrified.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for sexual themes.

_The humid Florida weather does little to curb the shaking. Her dress is sticking to her skin, sweat breaking out across her face and chest but she barely notices. She blunders through the dimly-lit car park, sniffling quietly._

_The streetlights emit an electronic hum, casting shadows across the asphalt. Her dress swishes around her calves, heels clicking in a monotonous manner._

_She's in a hurry; arms crossed and her eyes trained on the ground. Relying on her stress-addled brain to get her where she needs to go._

_Washington is all but a blur in her mind. Flashes of time. Segments that have played over and over, but the outcome (or consequences) don't improve no matter how many times she replays them._

_The boardroom. The faces. The promises, the assurances. Her own pleading and begging — falling on deaf ears, as per usual. Because they know better. That smug sense of self-righteousness._

_That final key stroke that shattered whatever control she thought she held over the situation._

_Fury courses through her and she pushes it back, wiping her eyes. Those stiff, suited goons are just nameless, faceless men with no tangible connection to the unstable, obsessive woman who has already pinned everything squarely on Linka's shoulders._

_The decision was an easy one. Grabbing her purse and storming from the offices, away from the congratulatory pats on the back. Away from the hand-shaking. Away from the arrogant smirk levelled at her from the chief analyst._

_They have a great deal to gain. She has everything to lose._

_And now it's done._

_She hopes the payload fails spectacularly._

_She's supposed to be heading back to the apartment. Back to the four walls. Back to the waiting around by day and the arguments and repetitive discussions centred around their future by night. But the apartment feels empty; devoid of laughter and joy._

_They're one person down and it's just not the same without him._

_She hurries on, seeking out the one person who always puts things into perspective. Perspective is what she needs. Craving that daily dose of bubbly optimism and positivity now more than ever._

_The main entrance looms. The automatic doors slide open and she trudges through. Passing the front desk and making her way through the corridor towards the elevators. The smell of disinfectant is strong and the only person she passes is a cleaner pushing a trolley filled with cleaning supplies. She presses the button and waits, stepping inside, barely looking up at the reflection in the mirrored walls._

_She makes her way up to the third floor and steps out; blonde hair tangled and curling from the humidity. Her long hair frames her face, swishing with each hurried step. A nurse eyes her curiously, probably wondering what she's doing here so late at night when visiting hours are well and truly over._

_With the mood she's in, anyone who questions her is likely to receive a mouthful of Russian expletives, followed by a gust of wind to the face._

_Luckily for her, no one does._

_His room is at the end of the darkened corridor. She moves past the empty nurses station, staying close to the wall and darting behind a linen trolley. Three more strides and she reaches his door, turning the handle and slipping in unnoticed._

_The anxiety fades away as soon as she closes the door behind her. The scent of flowers is strong. More bouquets have been delivered since the last time she visited him._

_He's a large lump on the bed; his form swathed in a mass of hospital-issue cotton-weave blankets. Facing away from her, his back rises and falls steadily and she hesitates, stepping back — feeling guilty for intruding at this ungodly hour._

_Wondering if he'll be mad._

_She fingers the chain hanging around her throat, suddenly unsure. She debates leaving for a moment: rooted to the ground. Ready to flee. Not wanting to bother him with her own problems when he's still so —_

_"Got any decent food on ya, babe?"_

_The voice is muffled and low. She breathes a sigh of relief, sinking into the seat beside the bed as he rolls over slowly to greet her._

_"How did you know it was me?"_

_"Perfume," he croaks. Just his eyes and hair are visible and she attempts a smile, stroking his forehead with her fingers._

_"Social visit?"_

_She shrugs, looking away, staring at the monitors beeping on the equipment on the other side. "Maybe."_

_He's groggy and disoriented, still on heavy pain relief at night when the pain effects him the most. He rubs a hand over his face, reaching blindly for his phone. He locates it on the fourth fumbling attempt and the glow from the cell lights his face up further. He blinks, as through not trusting his own eyes._

_"Jesus, babe," he rasps. "It's two in the mornin'?"_

_"I'm sorry," she whispers, guilt hitting her hard. "I was… I just —"_

_"You okay? Has somethin' happened?" he asks, trying to sit up and wincing in pain; having forgotten about his predicament. "Ow, shit."_

_"Stay down, Yankee," she says, pushing him gently back onto the pillows again. Rising to her feet, she looks around nervously. "I should not have come, I was selfish. I will return in the morning."_

_"What happened?" He's alarmed now, trying to sit up again and grabbing her hand to prevent her from leaving. "What's the matter?"_

_"They uploaded the virus," she whispers. She's defeated and scared — emotions she's not overly familiar with._

_"They what?" Wheeler looks stunned. "Whaddya mean? They've —"_

_"It is done. There is nothing I could do. I begged them not to. So did the field officer, but they did not listen. They just went ahead anyway." She's rambling now, the words blurting between soft gasps and sniffles. "They ignored us. What if it destroys MAL? What if Blight —"_

_"Hang on," he says, squeezing her hand. "Slow down. You're jumpin' ahead of yourself. Let's just —"_

_"I did not want this! I am not going to be the scapedog, I am not going to —"_

_"Scapegoat."_

_"Whatever!" she cries, her voice rising. "Radi boga! Blight sent me a bunch of dead flowers last week! I told them this! They do not care. I would never have agreed —"_

_"Just relax, babe. Calm down."_

_"Do not tell me to calm down," she retorts. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I never wanted this."_

_He tugs her gently back towards him. She's still on her feet, knees bumping the steel bed frame and staring down at her hand still clutched tightly within his own._

_"I just needed to come," she whispers, at a loss to explain how she's feeling. "I do not know what to do."_

_"All right," he says. " Look, we'll —"_

_"Gi and Kwame have been fighting a lot. Ma-Ti is never around." She shrugs miserably, blinking back tears. "Everything is falling apart. I do not know… I cannot —"_

_"Okay." He shuffles over gingerly and pats the spot on the mattress he's just cleared. She removes her shoes and climbs in, settling herself onto the mattress. "Let's not go straight to panic mode."_

_"I am already there," she mumbles as she lies down, settling into the crook of his arm. The air conditioning is pumping cool air into the room but his bed is warm and cosy under the covers. He pulls the blankets over her, wincing slightly with the movement._

_"Sure you're okay?"_

_"Nyet," she replies tersely. "Not really. How are you?"_

_"Feelin' all right," he says. "Glad to be gettin' home tomorrow."_

_His good arm settles around her waist and they lie in a companionable silence, listening to the beeps of the monitors. The distant footsteps of the night staff can be heard along the corridor outside his room. She sighs, tracing her fingertips back and forth over his chest through the thin cotton of his t-shirt._

_"This is becomin' a habit," he says after a while. She nods, feeling his legs brush against hers. "Not the first time you've snuck into my bed lately."_

_"Da," she says; her cheeks flushing pink. "Sorry."_

_"No complaints from me," he chuckles, giving her a squeeze. "Never say no to cuddlin' with a pretty lady."_

_"Really?" she remarks, peering up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Put a girl in your bed, a pizza and a basketball game on the television and you would have your ultimate evening, Wheeler."_

_"Pretty decent trifecta." His fingers stroke back and forth along her waist absently. "Might need to add a fourth option to make it a grand slam."_

_"A fourth option? And what would that be?"_

_He smirks but doesn't elaborate any further; pressing his cheek gently against her forehead. "How long? I mean, the virus —"_

_"I found out a few hours ago."_

_He shakes his head. "Nah, how long until you know if it's worked?"_

_"Maybe a week?"_

_"I thought these things were faster?"_

_"We designed it to be a slow release virus. It will take time. It needs to break through the firewalls and encrypted files. Isolate MAL's mainframe."_

_"Might not even work, babe."_

_"For all I know, they may have altered the original file anyway. They were talking about acquiring the technology. Studying and adapting it. Cyber warfare or something," she mumbles tiredly. "I would not be surprised if the original virus we developed has been modified."_

_"Doubt they know how to tie their own shoes, babe." His thumb rubs lazy circles through the fabric of her dress. "Stop stressin'. It'll be fine."_

_"I hope so."_

_He squeezes her again, nuzzling the top of her head. She sighs, splaying her fingers against his chest and listening to the muffled footsteps and sounds from outside in the corridor._

_"They were celebrating," she murmurs after a while, unable to contain the note of worry in her voice. "They were clonking glasses and drinking champagne. It is easy to celebrate when they do not have such a close personal connection to the —"_

_"To the psychotic bitch who made all this possible?"_

_"Da," she says. "I am scared."_

_"Nothin's gonna happen. And if it does, MAL will end up with a few infected files. Blight'll shake her fist at us. Same as usual." He sighs, scratching his head. "Besides, doesn't sound like we'll be havin' much to do with 'em from here on in anyway."_

_"Nyet," she says faintly. This recent development has brought up a host of new and just as concerning implications. The prospect of moving on without the Planeteers by her side seems to be drawing closer. "It will be strange not to be chasing down Plunder and his fellow polluters."_

_"Whole lot of 'em can become someone else's problem now."_

_She nods; relaxed and weary now. "What if MAL is destroyed, Wheeler?"_

_"Then you can watch Blight carry on about it from the comfort of your television... and if she's still pissed, I'll send her a muffin basket."_

_"That is very considerate of you." She’s  unable to hide her smile. "Blueberry?"_

_"Fuck no. You kiddin'? I'll go for week-old stale muffins with weird combinations like carrot and sauerkraut."_

_She giggles. "Why would you —"_

_"Beetroot and bacon. Pumpkin and oregano," he says, eliciting more giggles from Linka. "You know, all those shit flavors that people make but nobody actually likes."_

_"I like savoury muffins, Yankee," she says, pushing herself up onto her elbow and smiling down at him. Her concerns are fading, just as she knew they would. She feels better. Clearer. Seeing things in a more positive light. "There is nothing wrong with savoury muffins."_

_"Yuck."_

_She leans in, sweeping the hair off his forehead and tracing the faint sleep lines embedded down his cheek and temple. "What about a fruit basket? That would be a nice gift for supposedly ruining one's life's work?"_

_"Yeah… nah. I'm nice but I'm not that nice."_

_"You are nice," she says softly. He reaches out; his thumb skating over her cheek and down her neck, coming to rest in the dip at the base of her throat. She tips her head forward with a contented sigh as his fingers stroke loosely through her hair._

_"I am?"_

_"You are very nice, Yankee."_

_She feels a fluttering from deep within the pit of her stomach; a fierce pull of affection. Leaning forward with trembling nerves, she presses a soft kiss to his forehead. She nuzzles his cheek, aware of the way his breathing falters with each sweep of her mouth._

_She bends lower; her breath hushed and close to his ear. "I think I have you figured out."_

_"Figured out what?" he says gruffly, grabbing her by the hips and dragging her on top of him. She flattens her elbows against the mattress as her knees fall either side of him. She's sitting astride Wheeler on the narrow bed now, crouched low over him._

_Her hair falls in soft curls. He smiles up at her, and she can feel his satin boxers gliding between her thighs. He reaches out; his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of her face._

_"Think you know all my secrets?"_

_All she can do is nod. Her heart is thumping hard in her chest; recirculated air cooling her skin and causing goosebumps to break out. She's never found herself in such close physical contact with him._

_There's a quiet intimacy between them. It's always been there, yet this is different. She's aware that they've passed the point of no return. Their relationship is finally evolving into something else. She welcomes it. The knowledge leaves her breathless with anticipation._

_He shifts between her legs, grabbing her hands and raising them in the air. She threads her fingers through his, jostling for control; an almost playful push and pull game that mirrors their own complicated relationship over the years._

_The fact she's straddling Wheeler at two in the morning in an Orlando hospital room has become redundant. The distinct possibility of a nurse entering the room and finding them locked in this compromising position doesn't even enter her mind. She doesn't care and the knowledge is liberating._

_"Lin?" he says, and she shakes her head slightly, ridding herself of the slack-jawed fog she's found herself in. "Said you'd figured me out?"_

_She clears her throat and tries again. "Da."_

_"What have you figured out?" he asks quietly._

_"You are not as tough as you think you are," she whispers._

_He raises his eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?"_

_"Do I need to?"_

_He pulls her down until she's pressed firmly against his chest. He wraps her up in his arms, hugging her fiercely, nuzzling into her neck with a heavy sigh; warm breath prickling her skin. She turns her face inward, her lips stopping just short of his. It takes every ounce of willpower she has not to ravage his waiting mouth._

_Eyes half-lidded, she rocks her hips against him. He groans, and she does her best to ignore the dull throb pulsing through her own body._

_"You have everyone else fooled… but not me."_

_"Is that a bad thing?"_

_"Nyet." She shakes her head, brushing her lips ever-so-slightly against his, teasing him. "I see you."_

_"What do ya see?"_

_"People see the tough-talking man from Brooklyn who is not afraid of anything.” The corner of her lips curl as she smiles down at him fondly, stroking her fingers through his bed-ruffled hair. "But I see a teddy bear. Big old, soft teddy bear."_

_"Tell anyone that and I'll be forced to take drastic action," he growls; nuzzling her neck again, and she sighs with pleasure. "Gotta maintain my reputation."_

_"Nyet," she says, watching the way his eyes scan her face. "All of the jokes. Being confident all of the time. Taking charge. Acting like you are invincible. Nothing can touch you. Looking after everyone else's needs before your own."_

_"I can take care of myself.” He touches her lips with the pad of his thumb. "Always have."_

_"You take good care of me," she whispers._

_"Pretty good at takin' care of yourself, babe. Don't need me to —"_

_"You look after me," she says; her voice thick with emotion. "You always have."_

_"Always will."_

_She rocks her hips again, feeling the heat of him through the layers of satin and cotton separating their bodies. She leans back, parting her legs further until she's flush against him; watching the way he bites down on his lip, knowing he's as aroused as she is. The evidence lies hard and rigid between her legs, and it’s a knowledge that leaves her desperate and wanting._

_The thought hits her — that she wishes they were curled up alone on the couch right now in a darkened room. Free to touch and explore; unburdened by missions and time and circumstances._

_She wonders (not for the first time) what it would be like with him. Stretched out beneath him; her legs curled tightly around his waist, focusing on her breathing and the rhythm of their hips moving against one another. She can almost imagine the feel of his mouth and tongue slowly exploring every inch of her body._

_It’s almost too much to bear._

_She utters a heavy sigh; dropping her forehead onto his good shoulder as his hands start to roam freely, his movements deft and sure._

_His palms skate up her calves before coming to rest on her hips. He caresses her slowly through the thin fabric of her dress, fingers tracing back and forth along her upper thighs; sending tiny ripples of pleasure through her. Without warning he tightens his grip, pulling her down and grinding her hard against him._

_She's not expecting it, sobbing into his shirt; arching into him. The sensations stirring within her body are overwhelming. The friction feels incredible. Her breath hitches as he continues the intimate, rocking movements._

_"Wheeler?" she whispers longingly, squirming as his hands continue their exploration; tracing a path along the bare skin of her arms, leaving goose-pimples in their wake. His fingers slip underneath the thin straps of her dress. He guides them off her shoulders, smoothing his palms over silken skin, seeming to revel in the feel of her._

_His fingers tangle into her hair, but she continues rubbing herself against him, panting softly. Wondering how comfort and reassurance evolved so quickly into this writhing, silent parody of what they both have been gradually heading towards for the past nine years._

_She falls forward again, pressing her body to his; face to face now and overcome with an intense longing that is both invigorating and downright frightening. "Wheeler, I —"_

_The rest of her sentence is drowned out as he raises his head and kisses her languidly, his mouth hot and wet against hers. She gasps as he cradles her face in his hands, holding her firmly to him._

_It's tender and sweet. She caresses his face lovingly; surrendering to the moment rather than fighting it; the doubts and insecurities replaced by nothing but the feel of his hands and the light press of his mouth on hers._

_She makes a soft noise, eyelashes fluttering as his mouth seeks out her throat. Her head tips sideways; her breathing slow and ragged, fingers twisting into his hair as she succumbs to the heat of his lips and tongue on her skin._

_Their lips meet again in bruising tangle. This time she opens her mouth to him and her heart stutters as his tongue touches hers for the briefest of moments. His hands slip under her dress, caressing her bare thighs and she gives another soft moan against his mouth, wanting nothing more than for him to roll her over and devour —_

_A low voice is audible outside the door and Linka's body stiffens. Wheeler's hands clamp down again and she breaks away in fright, twisting and staring at the door as the handle starts to turn. Her dress is hiked up around her hips and she quickly rearranges it._

_"Shit," Wheeler mutters, pulling the blankets up as Linka scrambles off the bed, barely avoiding tumbling to the floor when her foot gets tangled in the sheets. She half falls into the chair as a nurse steps inside carrying a blood-pressure sleeve and a small tray._

_Linka runs a shaky hand across her face, hoping she doesn't look anywhere near as flustered as she feels. The nurse halts as her eyes settle on the dishevelled blonde sitting lopsided in the chair._

_"What are you doing here?" she asks, placing the tray on the end of the bed and staring at Linka disapprovingly. "You shouldn't be here. Visiting hours are —"_

_"I… uh," she squeaks, glancing at Wheeler who seems a great deal more calm and collected. He sits up, running a hand through his hair. His face is flushed though and he doesn't look too happy at the interruption. She turns her attention back to the nurse. "I —"_

_"Lin's just popped in to update me on the shooting," he says smoothly and Linka is suddenly relieved at his ability to lie so calmly and convincingly. "She was drivin' through."_

_"Da," she says, because nothing else intelligent is springing to mind. "Driving."_

_"I'm really sorry but you're gonna have to leave." The nurse frowns, attaching the cuff and squeezing the bulb, her eyes on the monitor. "You can come back tomorrow."_

_"Okay," she says, nodding vigorously . "I'm so sor —"_

_The nurse frowns, flicking the gauge and glancing at Wheeler. "Blood pressure's a little higher than usual."_

_"Really?" Wheeler mutters, glancing at Linka knowingly and she can barely meet his eyes. "Wonder why that is?"_

_"Uh. I will go, Wheeler," she says, standing and giving him an awkward wave. "I will see you later."_

_"Babe?" She's halfway towards the door as she turns and looks at him questioningly. He gestures towards the floor. "Purse."_

_She mutters something under her breath, reaching down and scooping it up as the nurse bustles around him. Waving again, she clutches it to her chest and hurries out, striding back through the corridor and towards the elevator._

_She steps inside and as soon as the doors close, a wide grin breaks out on her face. The mirrored walls reveal her tousled hair, swollen lips and flushed cheeks — more wonton goddess now rather than the highly-strung nervous wreck who had entered the building an hour earlier. The straps of her dress still hang from her shoulders and she's still breathing heavily. She smiles to herself, leaning against the panels, still in a sensory haze._

_His touch still lingers on her skin. She closes her eyes for a moment, wanting to prolong the blissful, dream-like state she’s found herself in._

_Her phone beeps and she burrows into the bottom of her purse to retrieve it, stepping out onto the ground floor._

_She's barefoot — padding quietly through the main foyer and it finally occurs to her that she's forgotten her shoes. Pushing through the front doors, the heat hits her as she stops to read the message, already knowing it will be from Wheeler._

Stop stressing.

Blight's a fucking moron.

Everything will be fine.

Planning on finishing what we started when I'm home.

x

_She grins happily, swinging her bag as she wanders towards the rental car. A thrill of nervous anticipation settles over her. The concerns and worries from earlier in the evening are already forgotten._

_Everything is going to be all right._

* * *

"I don't think we're meant to be here," Grace observed, peering at Bleak with her arms crossed. "What if someone catches us?"

He jerked his thumb in Gi's direction. "Then dolphin-girl can use her ring."

"We're in the desert,  _Argos_ ," Gi said, rolling her eyes. Not much I can do out here."

"Fat lot of good you are, then," he muttered. Gi stepped away, leaning against a rusted ladder and watching Bleak poke around the shed on the perimeter of the property. "Gotta do somethin' while we wait for the rest of the brat-brigade."

"You know, I'm noticin' a pattern with you," Grace said. "Know what a kleptomaniac is?"

"Fear of clapping?"

"Oh God," Gi said under her breath. "How you and Plunder concocted all those schemes is beyond me."

"He was the brains, I was the brawn."

"What are you looking for?" Grace frowned, watching Bleak climb the shelves and peer inside a large container. He rifled through the contents. "You realise you can't take any of this shit home with you?"

"Never know what might come in handy," he said, grunting as he hauled himself up further. "Like to know what's available. In case I need it."

"Uh huh," Grace replied. She folded her arms, stepping aside as a wrench was tossed to the ground. "You a hoarder back at home, too."

"Only car parts."

"I'm imagining a little filthy weatherboard house with burnt-out cars and engines littering the front yard," Grace said. "Neighbours complaining about the mess and —"

"I live in an apartment."

"Where do you keep your cars?"

"On the street and in a storage locker."

"Storage locker," Grace mused. "Any dead bodies in there?"

"No," he muttered, pausing to glare down at Grace. He thrust a hammer in her direction. "But now that you mention it, I'm tempted to track your annoying little ass down when I'm back. You can be the first."

"Kinky," she said, giving him a lopsided grin. "I'll still be in junior high."

"Jesus," he spat, incredulous. "Movin' on."

"Linka and Wheeler are taking a while." Gi slipped her hands into her pockets, shuffling her feet in the dirt and dust covering the floor of the shed. "Hope they're okay."

"Ma-Ti said they're fine," Grace said. "You reckon they're falling back into old habits?"

"Wouldn't put it past them," Gi said, smiling. She shrugged, gazing out the small ventilation window. "Those two were always a lost cause."

"Might be a hidden blessing, her being back. Way to reconnect you guys again."

"Yeah," Gi said, ignoring Bleak as he rolled his eyes from the top shelf. "Really miss both of them."

"I know," Grace said. She jumped back as another make-shift weapon was tossed from the top shelf. "Geez. Watch it, moron."

"Shut up, freckles."

"You know —" Grace started but Gi pinched her arm, nodding towards the door and stepping back. A bearded man stood framed in the doorway, carrying a rifle and glaring at the trio.

Bleak had also noticed him, but carried on his avid searching regardless.

"Um... shit," Grace whispered.

"Bleak?" Gi said warningly as two more armed men became visible beyond the doorway. The second man carried a large knife. The third brandished another rifle — chest puffed out and his over-sized trousers hiked up to his stomach. A length of rope was tied around his skinny middle, evidently to stop his clothing from falling around his ankles.

Bleak turned and grabbed the edge of the shelving; hanging off with one arm dangling, still clutching the hammer in his hand.

"Drop it," the stranger said gruffly. Bleak swore under his breath but did what he was asked. "Move."

The girls were ushered out and pushed towards the fence. Bleak dropped down to the floor and he felt the rifle between his shoulder blades. He was shoved towards the women.

"Now would be a good time to try out that ring," he muttered to Gi.

She shook her head. "Already have. Nothing."

"Shit."

"Who are you?" the first man barked and Grace recoiled, hiding behind Gi and Bleak. "Identify yourselves."

"Larry, Curly and Moe," Bleak replied smartly. The rifle butt slammed into his ribs and he doubled over, winded but without losing his trademark hateful sneer.

"Think you're funny?" the man sneered. "Regular comedian? Just wait until you find out what the old lady does to freaks who —"

Bleak looked away, ignoring the furious tirade. He glanced over at Grace who was staring open-mouthed at the other two guys. He soon saw what was drawing her attention.

The second man's cap was aflame atop his head and the third's rifle had begin to glow red. Harry High-Pants gasped, flinging it to the ground and screeching in agony.

Bleak saw the opportunity and he took it. He ducked his head and barged into the jerk who had bruised his ribs. Distracted by the flames and noise, the bearded guy didn't see what was coming. Bleak tackled him heavily to the ground and kicked the rifle from his hands.

"Grab it," Bleak bellowed at Grace, and she lurched forward, skidding to her knees and fumbling for the rifle. She tossed it to Bleak who trained the weapon on the two who remained, writhing on the ground in pain. The third had already taken off.

They regained their breath for a moment, looking around in surprise, adrenaline still pumping. No-one else was visible but Bleak knew without a doubt who had arrived. He'd been on the receiving end far too many times over the years.

"Where are you, Pyro," Gi called sharply. She was scanning beyond the fence line, looking for the source. "Thank you!"

"Hey!" A head popped out from behind the shed, smirking. "Get a little hot for 'em?"

"Yeah," Gi replied, helping Grace to her feet. "Nice one. Linka with you?"

" _Da_ ," came the reply as she followed Wheeler out. Bleak nodded towards her, and she gave him a tight smile back.

"That is what happens when you wander away." Ma-Ti was also with them. He approached them, passing his hand over the two struggling captives and they dropped to the ground, unconscious. "You guys disappeared on us."

"He made us do it," Grace said, pointing at Bleak. "Blame him."

"Shut up, Freckles," he hissed again. "You're really beginnin' to —"

"Klepto."

Bleak sighed, grabbing a body and dragging him towards the shed as Wheeler grabbed the other. "What about the other guy?"

"Linka sent him skyward. No idea where she's landed him."

"Nice," Grace grinned.

"I couldn't get Kwame out," Wheeler said, nodding towards Linka. She stood quietly by his side, clutching his hand and keeping him close. "Barely made it out with this one."

"We know," Gi said. "We'll find him."

"They will be expecting us," Ma-Ti said. He wiped his brow, glancing around. "They'll be prepared. Do we have a plan?"

"I have an idea," Bleak said, crouching down in the long grass and settling himself on the ground. The others joined him. "It's not much but it's the best I have."

"What are you thinkin'."

Bleak nodded towards Linka. "We'll need bait."


	41. Chapter 41

_The television flickers. Linka tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to drown out the racket going on in the next cubicle. Kwame and Gi have been sniping at each other steadily over the past two weeks and it's grating on Linka's already fraught nerves. Always the same topic._

_She glances at Ma-Ti. He's sitting quietly in the armchair beside Wheeler's bed and she suddenly understands why he's been disappearing so much. You can cut the tension with a knife. Everyone is tired, cranky and stressed out._

_The babble dies down and she refocuses on the small television attached to the ceiling, running her fingers through Wheeler's hair. She assumes he's asleep; curled up between her legs with his head pillowed against her chest._

_He's been quiet since the hospital refused to discharge him. His blood pressure hasn't come down and she's not sure whether to blame herself for that. They got a little carried away the other night._

_There's a slight fever brought on from an infection and they're holding onto him for longer than is necessary. He's not complaining, but she knows he's experiencing some discomfort. They've downgraded his medication. The lower-strength paracetamol is barely making a dent._

_Kwame drags a chair over and Gi follows him. Linka winces, intuition telling her that the argument is about to kick-up again in all it's glory._

_"I still don't understand why we have to —"_

_"I am not having this conversation with you, Gi," Kwame hisses. "We keep going around in circles. You know it is also Gaia's wish for us —"_

_"What would Gaia know?" Gi purses her lips and Linka can see she's barely holding herself together. "It's not like she's been around much lately. She's not exactly in a position to —"_

_"Have some respect, Gi!" Kwame rounds on her, his face ablaze with frustration. "What has gotten into —"_

_"I'm just saying I think we're being a little rash," she pleads, standing in front of him. "It should be our decision alone."_

_"The time is now, Gi," Kwame says. "Nine years… our lives are in danger, we are mad to —"_

_"Then we take extra precautions," she says. "We're just going to give up? Roll over?"_

_"Two weeks ago we were on the verge of losing Wheeler," Kwame says. He rubs his temples, eying Gi with frustration. "He nearly bled out on a street in —"_

_"Don't bring me into this," Wheeler mumbles. The argument has woken him. He rolls over, blinking up at the ceiling and Linka strokes his face with her thumb, tracing gentle patterns across his skin. He relaxes at her touch, breathing out and settling once again. She presses her mouth against the crown of his head as he falls back into an uneasy sleep._

_"What are you afraid of, Gi," Linka asks gently. "It had to happen sooner or later."_

_Gi doesn't answer. Her brown eyes are full of emotion. She's the only one who hasn't accepted their impending break-up._

_"We will return to Hope Island next week. We will speak to Gaia and go from there. Pack our things. Organise our return."_

_Gi stands and hurries out the door. The sound of her footsteps fade as Ma-Ti follows close behind, leaving Linka alone with the two men._

_Wheeler's chest rises and falls steadily. Kwame sinks into the chair that Ma-Ti has just vacated. He smiles though as Linka smooths Wheeler's messy hair off his forehead. She glances up, catching Kwame watching them with an unmistakable expression of pride on his face._

_"What?" she asks, a little embarrassed._

_He shakes his head, regarding her fondly. "Nothing at all, my friend."_

* * *

_She's surprisingly calm. Perched upright on the hotel room couch; hands folded neatly within her lap and staring ahead at nothing in particular._

_Ma-Ti is pacing the kitchen. Gi sits beside her, rubbing soothing circles into her back. She hasn't said much, but Wheeler and Kwame are making enough noise right now for the five of them. She can hear them in the hotel hallway, engaging in a shouting match with the three CIA staff who were sent to be the bearer of bad news._

_Only specific parts of the initial conversation had filtered through. The shock had by then taken over and Linka simply allowed the others to speak for her. She was incapable of doing much else. So many emotions should be churning through her. Fear, distress, terror — yet all she feels right now is a dazed indifference._

_After all, it's not every day you find out that there's been a contract placed on your life._

_She finds herself wondering how such transactions are organised._

_Was the request made by email? A full-page advertisement in The New York Times, or a small snippet in the local buy and sell trading post? Murderers-R-Us?_

_Is her particular contract on paper, or is it a verbal agreement with a handshake? Perhaps a legal document — her name typed in neat, bold writing with an official letterhead and signed with Blight's loopy handwriting._

_Are there clauses? Financial bonuses for certain methods of murder? Penalty rates for a weekend 'hit'. Will Blight require evidence? Perhaps proof of death. Has a specific method requested? Gun. Knife. Explosive device. Car 'accident'._

_Will payment be made by cheque upon successful completion? Bank deposit? Perhaps Barbara Blight has something else in mind._

_Linka drops her chin to her chest, closing her eyes and leaning into Gi's side. It's all too much to think about._

_Wheeler's voice is resonating loudly from the hallway. He's irate — absolutely furious. She's never heard him so angry._

_Their little rendezvous in the hospital seems like a distant memory. The last three days have been spent wandering around in a happy stupor. Daydreaming, counting down the hours until his release._

_She's willing to bet Wheeler wasn't expecting to leave hospital and walk into this monumental mess, dragged out to Washington and shoved into a threadbare hotel room with crummy facilities. Not exactly the way they'd planned to end things._

_"Should I go out there?" Ma-Ti's voice is barely audible over the ruckus._

_Gi shrugs, propping her chin on Linka's shoulder. "Dunno. Wheeler seems to be getting his point across quite well."_

_"This is an absolute joke," Ma-Ti says. His face is pale and he's watching Linka carefully. He steps forward, dropping to his knees and gripping Linka's hands. "There is no way they can expect you to just disappear with no notice. It's inhumane, it's —."_

_"It's their fault, anyway," Gi whispers. "Maybe it's just a threat? Maybe Blight is just pissed off and —"_

_"It must obviously be serious if the CIA are acting on it," Ma-Ti says. "Witness protection is not something they would take on lightly."_

_"But why would they —"_

_Linka doesn't want to hear any more. It makes the situation all the more real. She turns away from them, curling up and resting her head on the back of the couch. At the end of the day, the result will still be the same._

_MAL's programming has been destroyed. SAIP is offline and Barbara Blight is inconsolable — baying for Linka's blood._

_The door to the hallway opens and Wheeler blusters in. His face is bright red; his hair dishevelled. He's favoring his right side; his arm hanging stiffly. She can tell he's still experiencing some discomfort but it's been pushed to the back of his mind. Kwame and the agents soon follow, still arguing. A pointless, back and forth battle of wills and no one is backing down._

_The lead agent approaches Wheeler — a tall, middle-aged man with a moustache and the prerequisite government agency suit. She thinks his name is Jones. She can't really remember. Linka's never seen him before, but she suspects he's quite high up in terms of importance and pay-grade. He seems stressed._

_"We can't fix this, but we need to take steps to ensure Linka —"_

_"You're expectin' her to leave everything and everyone she knows with no notice whatsoever. Are you fucking insane? You —"_

_"You can swear all you like," Jones says angrily. "It's not going to change the fact that the threat is real. It's been verified and we have serious concerns for her safety."_

_"Serious concerns?" Kwame says, folding his arms and glancing at her. "Linka has had serious concerns since this whole situation began! You chose not to listen."_

_"She knew the risks, we —"_

_"Yeah, she knew the risks!" Wheeler throws his good hand in the air in frustration. "The only one at risk was her! You knew that! Linka warned you —"_

_"We made a tactical decision. SAIP was infiltrating too many secure government databases. We needed to act!"_

_"And she's gonna take the fall for you! It's all landin' on her shoulders, like you knew it would!"_

_Jones is looking more uncomfortable with each passing second. "She offered to help. She had a unique insight into Barbara Blight and a high level of technical knowledge. Her help was invaluable, she's done —"_

_"After all she's done for you? She's spent all her adult life helping others and you assholes fed her to the wolves!"_

_Another agent chimes in. "We had no choice. We had to make —"_

_"Bullshit," Wheeler says, glaring at the agents. "I swear, it's like talkin' to a brick wall! She's takin' the fall for this and all you assholes can say is —"_

_"You expect me to leave now?" Linka's voice is trembling. Everybody pauses, staring at the blonde girl who has barely said a word since the agents showed up on their doorstep. "You honestly expect me to just say goodbye and leave with you now? To disappear?"_

_Wheeler moves to interject and she raises her hand, warning him to stop. She raises her eyes to the lead agent. She's numb, wondering if it's all a dream, because nothing can be as out of touch from reality as this conversation._

_"Your safety is severely compromised. The threat is real. Our source is very reliable. Blight's offering a lot of money to take you down. Several million. We know of at least three people who have accepted. Andrei Kroi is one of them."_

_"Kroi?" Wheeler's face pales. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"_

_"You're all about to disband." The agent shakes his head, watching Linka with sympathetic eyes. "Once you give up your power, you'll be defenceless. You're single. No partner or children, it's a relatively easy relocation."_

_"I don't believe this?" Wheeler drops down into the chair by the kitchen table. His head is in his hands and he looks utterly devastated. "Can one of us go with her?"_

_"Nyet," Linka says quickly. Resolute. "I will not condemn any of you to this."_

_"Oh, come off it, Linka," he snaps. "You can't be —"_

_"We are giving up our powers!" she cries. "I do not have a choice but the rest of you do! I will not allow anyone to sacrifice their safety for —"_

_"Stop martyring yourself!" he shouts back. "For once in your goddamn life, would you just —"_

_"Shut up, Yankee!" she cries, jumping to her feet. "You think I want this? You think I want to leave? I do not have a choice! I —"_

_"Of course you have a choice!" Wheeler shouts; fists clenched by his sides and staring down at her. "You can choose to tell 'em to go jump of a cliff! They've completely fucked up and you shouldn't have to suffer for it!"_

_"What other option do I have, Yankee?" she cries, crossing her arms stiffly. "I can either accept their help or become another statistic on Andre Kroi's criminal record. That is if the other two do not find me first!"_

_"Then let one of us come with you," Wheeler pleads. "For fuck's sake, at least you won't have to go alone."_

_"I will not condemn you!" she cries. "Just leave it alone, Wheeler! I should never have tried to help! I should have stayed out of it! It is all on me. I cannot drag any of you into —"_

_"This whole conversation is pointless anyway," Jones interjects. "Our protective orders cover immediate family only. Husbands, wives, children. I doubt any of you would qualify for —"_

_Linka sinks back down again. She drops her head into her hands; heavy tears slipping down her cheeks as she processes the full extent of Jones' words. The situation is hopeless._

_"You can't be serious," Wheeler groans. Linka flinches as Wheeler slams his hand down on the small study desk. "You guys are an absolute joke."_

_"This isn't right," Gi whispers. She leans back, rubbing her face and glaring at the agents. "This is disgusting."_

_"We need to move promptly. The longer we —"_

_"You're not takin' her," Wheeler seethes. "Over my dead body."_

_The agent sighs. "There's a car waiting downstairs. We have new documentation being organised as we speak. We have a safe house ready here in Washington. Couple of days, then we transfer you to an undisclosed —"_

_"Undisclosed?" Gi whispers. "You're really going to —"_

_"We've tracked Kroi to Geneva. He's about to board a plane. The other two targets are unknown to us at this time, so we can't anticipate their movements. The risk far outweighs the — "_

_"Then we just keep our powers," Gi says. "We have more chance of holding them back if —"_

_"This line of thinking did not work for Wheeler," Kwame says softly. "It is not working for any of us anymore. We are working with semi-automatic weapons and criminals now. Linka will not last long if this is the case."_

_"That's why it's imperative that we leave now. You're going to have to say your goodbyes. We'll give you five —"_

_"No." Kwame's voice is commanding and it cuts short the conversation in a heartbeat. "Not tonight."_

_"Excuse me?" Jones looks incredulous._

_Kwame shakes his head. "No. You want to take her, you do it our way."_

_"I hardly think you have the —"_

_"No," Kwame repeats again. "She has loose ends to tie up. Family to call. Bags to pack and a ring to return."_

_"Our orders are to —"_

_"Tomorrow," Ma-Ti says quietly. He's thumbing his ring and watching Linka with sympathetic eyes. "She will be safe for tonight."_

_The lead agent crosses his arms over his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed. "Fine. We'll return in the morning, but no later. For the moment, we have a security detail posted in the lobby and the corridor, they're keeping an eye out for him and anyone else who looks suspicious."_

_"Jesus," Wheeler whispers. He looks like he's going to be physically sick. "This is insane."_

_"Best to change your appearance before we leave," the agent says. "Have you got someone who can cut and dye your hair?"_

_"I can do it," Gi says, wiping away tears. She grabs her purse, squeezing Linka's shoulder on her way past. "I'll grab you some stuff. You're gonna need —"_

_"Everything," Linka whispers. She barely notices Gi slip quickly out the door. "All my things… we do not have time. Where is Gaia?"_

_"She's washed her hands of us," Wheeler says bitterly. "Like she's gonna —"_

_"We'll leave you to it," Jones says. The agents file out the door. One flips his phone out, dialling a number and pressing the handset to his ear as he leaves. "We'll return around 6am."_

_Wheeler kicks the door shut behind them, turning and rounding on his teammates. "Tell me we're not —"_

_"They are extremely worried," Ma-Ti says, turning his eyes to Linka again. "I can feel it. Kroi will not stop. The man is obsessed with you."_

_"Jesus, Linka, you gotta reconsider letting someone —"_

_"It is not up to me! You heard what they said —"_

_"For fuck's sake, would you just —"_

_"Just what?" Linka cries. "You heard them! I have no choice. They have already said they will not relocate anyone else. And even if they did — you all have families! Homes and friends to go to! What if something happens? I would never forgive myself if —"_

_"We will need to relinquish our rings tomorrow before you go," Kwame says. He's leaning against the wall, rubbing his brow. He looks overwhelmed. "We will bring it forward."_

_"Why are we even considering this?" Wheeler strides forward, gripping Linka by the shoulders and hauling her to her feet. She can barely look at him. "This is insane, those creeps don't deserve to —"_

_"What would you have me do, Yankee," she whispers. "My hands are tied. I have no choice —"_

_"Linka, I'll go with you!"_

_"You heard what they said! They will not issue new identities to anyone who isn't related. What is the point if you were unable to relocate with me?"_

_She trails off, sinking back onto the couch and dropping her face into her hands again, unable to stem the tears falling silently down her cheeks. She suspects they're tears of disappointment more than anything else; lost dreams and tenuous hopes, all disintegrating before her eyes._

_"Even now — even after everything," Wheeler says, taking a seat beside her. "You still dig your goddamn heels in? Would you at least —"_

_"Bozhe moy, Wheeler!" she moans. "They have already said they will not allow it. What would you have me do? Why would I willingly wish to put your life in danger? Why would you commit yourself to that life?"_

_"Why would I… are you serious?" He's wide-eyed, disbelieving. "Why would I commit myself —"_

_"Wheeler," Kwame says warningly. He can read him like a book. "This is a delicate situation. We are all —"_

_Wheeler shrinks back, staring at her with a look of sheer frustration on his face. He sighs, reaching for her hand and clasping it tightly within his warm grip._

_"Nine years and you still don't have a clue?" Wheeler sits back, shaking his head in wonder. "I adore you... but honestly? You're the dumbest 'smart' person I've ever met."_

_She stands in a manner far more dignified than required. Releasing his hand, she walks across the living room, entering the bedroom and closing the door quietly behind her._

* * *

The bed was round and plush; oodles of pink confection-like frills and fuchsia trimmings. A giant marshmallow. The quilt was top-quality. Luxurious, cottony heaven. People had no concept of how difficult it was to find sheets to fit the massive circular mattress, but her people had found linen that had finally met with her approval. It had taken some diligent searching.

Perhaps a little ranting.

Like the rest of the compound, her bedroom was packed to the brim with her possessions. Her pride and joy. More mannequins — because their ambivalent faces were better company than the buffoons at her disposal outside of these walls. Scientific equipment. Test tubes, microscopes, beakers, bunsen burners. Discarded hard drives.

MAL's shattered monitor took pride of place beneath the window. A shrine, covered with crude drawings and letters. His screen remained forever dark. She'd drawn his face on using lipstick several years ago — it comforted her to talk to him. Discuss her plans with him. Bark and scream at him, sob at the injustice of it all.

Her room was her sanctuary, giving her somewhere to go when the burden of being Queen Bee became too much for her.

The company of others tended to annoy her these days. She now considered herself to be a solitary creature.

It was the headaches. The persistent pain behind her eyes. It varied between a dull throb and an all-out blinding vomit-inducing paralysis that often kept her locked away in the dark for days at a time.

Her hair had began falling out during the Fall months. Or so she believed, since the leaves were dropping off the trees when the first strands were dropping away with her hairbrush.

The nose bleeds had started soon after; waking up in a wet puddle of blood smeared across her face and pillow. Her chin and jaw were constant agony. The sores were a recent development. Some days they oozed all manner of liquid filth. She'd quickly had her people destroy all the mirrors within the compound, along with covering any reflective surfaces.

But no matter how hard her mind tried to ignore the symptoms, her body was a constant, crippling reminder of the fact she was unwell.

She wasn't stupid. She was a modern day Marie Curie, tinkering with the same materials with the same level of primitive technology.

Isotopes. Neutrons. Gamma rays. Radium.

Plutonium.

Radiation poisoning. No surprises there — she was dying.

But at the end of the day, it didn't matter. Her project was complete. The plan was in motion and she would leave her nuclear legacy. She would use the portal to enter the blonde brat's universe, reuniting with MAL before she succumbed to her illness. She assumed that the rusted metallic object in the lab would obliterate the world she left behind when the time portal imploded.

Her assumptions were always correct.

MAL's retribution was coming. She would see it through.

If she was dying, she was taking the rest of them with her.

* * *

"Whaddya want me to say, Red," Bleak muttered, pushing the gun into the waistband of his trousers. "I'm as much a victim as you are."

"Victim?" Wheeler snorted, throwing him an annoyed look. "You're anything but a victim, Bleak. You made your choice. Linka said you beat the living shit outta me back in your time before —"

"Following orders," he said. He shoved the hammer into Wheeler's chest. "Besides, your little wife wouldn't have made it this far if it hadn't been for —"

"What do ya want, Bleak?" Wheeler rolled his eyes, glaring down at him. "Medal? Round of applause? Ticker-tape parade?"

"A thank-you would be a good start."

"Oh, right," Wheeler said sarcastically. "Thank you for beatin' the shit outta me, and you know… doin' what any other  _decent_  human being should be doin' anyway."

"You're welcome."

"That wasn't really a thank-you."

"I'm choosin' to take it as one."

"Jesus," Wheeler muttered.

"So you got kids with Blondie, then?"

"Yeah." Wheeler paused, watching Bleak tightening the bolts on the vehicle. "What's it to —"

"Just interested," Bleak said, wiping his brow. "Plunder always thought you two were goin' at it behind closed doors."

"Oh, God," he muttered. "I really didn't need to know that."

"Blight was doin' everyone," Bleak remarked. "The woman was insatiable."

"Didn't need to know that either."

"Fuck anything with a heartbeat." He pointed his wrench towards Linka again. "Pretty much everyone assumed that you and —"

"We weren't," Wheeler said, taking a seat on the dusty ground behind him. "Not while in the group."

"Blondie said the same," Bleak replied. "Girl and a boy?"

"Huh?"

"Your kids," Bleak said, rolling his eyes. "You got a —"

"Yeah," Wheeler replied, shaking his head slightly at the unusual conversation unfolding. He glanced back, watching Linka and Gi sitting together under a shrub; hands clasped and talking quietly. "Girl and a boy."

"Mmm," Bleak said. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to fit the manifold over the cart. "Chick's got guts, I'll give her that. Been through the wringer."

Wheeler didn't reply. He leaned back, twisting around and catching Linka watching him intently. She dropped her gaze, flushing red and tucking her hair behind her ears self-consciously.

Bleak snorted. The awkward exchange hadn't escaped his attention. "Someone has a little crush on you."

"Yeah," Wheeler said with a heavy sigh, refocusing on the weird contraption Bleak was working on. "I noticed."

"Fuck her on the way here?" Bleak asked in a low voice.

Wheeler clenched his fists, glaring at the back of Bleak's bald head. "Are you just so lacking in basic conversational skills that you —"

"Simple question."

"No!" he seethed. "Not that it's any of your fuckin' —"

"Why haven't you? She's obviously good for it, you —"

"Why the hell would I put myself through that again? She's goin' home. Just because you're completely missing' a moral compass —"

"Makes sense, that's all," Bleak replied. He looked back, his eyes glancing over Linka's lithe frame. "She's young. She's cute. She's alive, which is a bonus. We get this done, stop thinkin' about it and go —"

"Great," Wheeler said, a little incredulous at the topic of conversation. "Takin' sex advice from a Neanderthal who probably roughs up prostitutes in his spare —"

"I'm just sayin' might be good to get it off your chest. Or rather, off your —"

"Thanks for the chat, Oprah," Wheeler interrupted, jumping to his feet and dusting off his trousers. "Seriously. It's been enlightening."

"Heart boy gone?"

"Yeah," Wheeler replied. "He snuck in the back entrance. Already locked on to his ring."

Bleak shrugged. "Tell the rest of the pipsqueaks to be ready. I'm about to send it in."

"Whatever," Wheeler replied, trudging back towards Tyreece.

* * *

A massive explosion roused Kwame from his restless sleep. He sat up quickly, passing a hand over his face as he looked around in fright. The walls shook and eventually calmed again. He could hear a commotion beyond his cell; people running and shouting loudly. Screams, followed by smaller explosions.

The ever-present darkness hampered his ability to see but a small crack of light was visible on the other side of the room. The bald heads of the mannequins glowed eerily as a result. Another shuffling sound and Kwame leant forward, aware now that someone was in here with him.

"Who's there?" he whispered, hairs rising on the back of his neck. He clutched a narrow metal pole in his fist; squirrelled away the night before as a result of his shackled scavenging attempts. "Who —"

A face bore down on him, illuminated from an unidentified light source hovering just behind him. Kwame recoiled, half expecting it to be Blight again. The face was masculine, though. Bulbous nose and vacant eyes, a look of dazed confusion.

It was the driver of the truck who had transported him here.

"Wha —" Kwame started, scurrying backwards as the man slumped forward, crashing to the ground unconscious. Another shadow burst forth behind him and Kwame grinned with relief, knowing who was responsible for the unexpected intrusion. "You took your time."

"Didn't even need to lock onto your ring," Ma-Ti said, sinking to his knees beside him. "They were all gathered around outside trying to get it to work… until Bleak's fire-bomb sent them running for cover."

"Fire-bomb?"

"Yes. Bleak sent a golf-cart into the loading dock. Took out most of their transport. Drawing them away from the labs on the other side of the building. Linka's waiting for them."

Kwame looked down as an object was slipped over his finger. He clenched his fists. "I was beginning to think you were not coming."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Kwame said. "I have had Barbara Blight making frequent visits."

"You have seen her?" Ma-Ti tugged at the rope, raising his eyes in surprise. "Is she —"

"Nuttier than a fruit cake does not even begin to cover it," Kwame commented drily. He leant forward, pulling the rope taut with the hands bound behind his back. He aimed his ring blindly at the wall behind him. "Earth."

The tethered metal ring slipped free from the wall, clanging to the ground loudly. The ropes slackened as he scurried forward, slipping them free of the metal.

"Hang on," Ma-Ti said, working quickly to unknot the bindings around his wrists. "Cannot see a thing in here."

Kwame nodded his head towards the mannequins. "I have not been short of company."

"A little creepy."

A few more moments and Kwame was free. He rubbed his bruised skin for a moment before stumbling to his feet and stretching the kinks out of his muscles. "Do we have a plan?"

"Linka is currently rounding up as many people as she can with her ring. There's an empty water tank just beyond the property. It would have once serviced the whole town. We're locking them down."

"We do not wish to drown —"

"Gi has already checked — it is definitely clear. She is depositing anyone loitering around so we have less to deal with once inside."

"Something is wrong with Blight," Kwame said. He shuddered, recalling her hideous appearance. "I think she is sick. Perhaps dying."

"From what?"

"Blistering sores. She has lost her hair." Kwame stepped carefully towards the door, peering through the crack Ma-Ti had left. "She was bleeding from the mouth and ears last night. She was rambling about a 'big bang'. A big fire. Purification, or something. She said it's the one thing she didn't have to send her people out to find."

"What are you thinking?" Ma-Ti's mouth hung open as he considered the implications.

"We never found those nuclear warheads, Ma-Ti." Kwame leaned against the wall, looking tired and worried. "Remember all those years ago? We were tracking down the weapons? We thought it was Plunder? We never recovered them. What if it was Blight? It would explain the —"

"Radiation poisoning?"

Kwame nodded. "Exactly. From nuclear weapons. Blight never knew when to —"

"She has had them the whole time," Ma-Ti said, finally understanding. "What do you —"

"She was raving about revolution. That we were going to burn. Redemption."

"Is she… do you think Blight is planning on sending a weapon through the portal?"

"No," he said. "I think it will detonate here when she tries to leave. She has been threatening to wipe us out for years. I think this has been her plan all along. Can you try to read her?"

"I doubt there is enough mind left to read, Kwame."

He nodded, knowing Ma-Ti was right. "We need to move. I will need you to contact the others."


	42. Chapter 42

_The rain beats down outside. The ensuite window is partly open and the noise of the downpour would usually comfort her. She has no idea what time it is; just that it's dark and it's night._

_"So much for energy conservation, Gi," Kwame mutters. He's leaning against the wall, watching Gi vigorously wash out the excess dye from Linka's hair. He shoves several soggy towels aside with his foot, bending down to pick one up. "You've used up the entire floor's worth of laundry here."_

_"Bite me," Gi says viciously, twisting and glaring at him. "You think you can do any better, then you —"_

_Linka gasps as her head is jerked to the side. She squints into the basin; her hair trailing down the porcelain sides. Dark brown water slushes down the drain. The blood is rushing to her head as she stands hunched over the sink; fingers gripping the sides. Her knuckles are starting to throb._

_Her body sways again with Gi's movements. A familiar ring tone starts buzzing somewhere behind her, probably from the couch where she left it. She already knows who it is without seeing. Mishka is in an absolute state. She called him two hours ago, willing herself through a very distressing conversation and her phone has been ringing frequently since._

_"It is your brother again," Kwame says. He has her phone and is unsure how to proceed. "Do you want me to answer —"_

_She nods, feeling the water trickling into her eardrums. Her upside-down state isn't exactly conducive towards another long, overwrought conversation. Neither is her state of mind._

_Kwame's voice is low and hushed. Linka glances back, watching a moment of their conversation before he calls Wheeler over. The Yankee raises his eyebrows as Kwame hands him the phone. Wheeler disappears into one of the bedrooms, talking softly to her brother and closing the door behind him._

_Linka sniffs as the water is turned off. She's guided towards a chair in the middle of their shared bathroom. She finds herself staring at the floor tiles as Gi towel-dries her hair. They're hideous — lime-green geometric patterns, a relic from the late 1970's. There are chips and dents visible, and the room is in desperate need of a modern overhaul._

_"Just a warning — I'm not a hairdresser," Gi whispers, wrapping her arms around Linka's shoulders and hugging her tightly. Linka smiles in response, but it's automatic. Painted on._

_The scissors are beside the basin and Linka's mouth is suddenly dry. She's held it together thus far but the thought of losing her prized mane sends a bolt of anxiety through her. Contract killers, leaving her friends, leaving_ **_him_ ** _; yet the largest emotional response has been provoked by something as simple as a hair cut._

_She recalls nights spent seated in her grandmother's lap when she was a child. Their shared ritual — brushing Linka's hair while sharing stories of her beloved mother._

_Babushka always loved her golden tresses._

_She wills herself to calm down. Gi runs a brush through the strands. Her hair soon falls to the middle of her spine and she winces as the comb snags several times. Linka's eyes soon follow the movement of the scissors with a sense of mounting apprehension._

_"How short am I going?" Gi whispers, squeezing her shoulder with her free hand. "Any suggestions?"_

_Linka shrugs, eyes downcast. The room seems to be converging, reducing in size. The air is pulsing and a cold sweat has broken out on her brow._

_"Taking half off?" Gi checks with Linka first, waiting for her approval before she proceeds._

_Linka nods quickly. Her feet are tapping nervously on the floor and she feels Gi's gentle hands pulling her hair away. The dull snip of the scissors replaces her heavy breathing. Her hair falls away in dark-brown waves, descending to the floor._

_Her lips part as she watches the pile increase. Grief rises through her and she punches it back. The lump in her throat is increasing._

_"Was that straight?" Kwame pokes his head around, watching Gi's careful cutting. "That looks crooked —"_

_"Really, Kwame?" she hisses. "I'm doing the best I can!"_

_"I am just saying you may be better off —"_

_"Since when did you become a barber?" she snaps, glaring at him. "Do you know how hard it is to do this with you two standing around?"_

_"Just cool it, guys," Ma-Ti voice warns. He's watching Linka carefully, aware of her mounting stress. "Leave it alone."_

_Kwame raises his hands in mock defeat. "Just trying to help," he says._

_"Well, don't! I can handle this myself!"_

_Linka grits her teeth. She just wishes that Kwame and Ma-Ti would leave them to it. They're hovering. She can tell Gi isn't coping, and having an audience is making it worse._

_The rhythmic snipping noises settle over her and she stares harder at the floor again, refusing to watch in the mirror because she's afraid her barely-maintained restraint will falter._

_Snip, snip, snip._

_"Do you need —"_

_"No, Kwame," Gi hisses. "I don't. Will you two just go away? You're annoying as —"_

_"I am annoying?" Kwame glares at Gi; arms crossed and standing tensely. "Living with you lately has not exactly been —"_

_Gi rounds on him — scissors still clutched in her hand. The argument continues, spilling outside into the living area. Linka finds herself alone in the center of the bathroom. She finally raises her eyes, glancing at herself in the mirror._

_Her heart sinks._

_She doesn't recognise the person staring back at her. Dark hair falls past her shoulders. The length is uneven, since Gi has yet to finish what she started. Sunken eyes, and her skin is pale and pasty. Grainy rivers of dye stain her forehead and cheeks. A large smudge has dried on the tip of her nose._

_Bottom lip trembling, she drags her tearful gaze upwards. Wheeler's distant figure is reflected in the mirror, framed in the bedroom doorway. Her phone is still clutched in his hand and he's watching her closely._

_Kwame and Gi's bickering reaches a crescendo. The bathroom walls are closing in. She suddenly feels sick and dizzy. She's claustrophobic; desperate to escape, struggling to draw enough oxygen into her lungs._

_"Just leave it alone, Kwame! You're constantly on my back about —"_

_"How am I on your back?"_

_"You're always riding me about something! I'm not even allowed to have an opinion anymore! Why —"_

_Linka pushes herself to her feet with a sob; flinging the towel to the floor and rushing out of the bathroom. Gi's cries ring in her ears but she ignores them; shoving the hotel door open and barreling out into the corridor. She runs towards the fire escape; shouldering through the heavy door and descending the stairs rapidly._

_The air is suddenly frigid as she reaches the ground floor. She pushes through the exit and flees through the alleyway, heading blindly towards the street._

_Police officers are posted around the hotel entrance. They're looking for suspicious men entering the premises — they don't give her a second look. They wouldn't recognise her anyway. She dodges through the peak-hour traffic; through the cars, blinking rain away from her lashes. The headlights are blurry but she wipes her eyes and presses on, sprinting towards the park opposite._

_A large pine tree looms in front and she slows, weaving unsteadily through the grounds until she reaches the gnarled root system. The canopy gives her some reprieve from the downpour but not much._

_Linka raises a trembling hand to her hair, an automatic reflex. So used to wrapping her fingers around her curls when she's nervous or stressed, but there's nothing there to grab hold of._

_She paces for a moment, before pressing her hands and forehead against the rough bark. She crouches over as she screams into the night; the anger and fear finally finding an outlet over the noise of the rain and the car horns from the street behind her._

_Hot tears fall and she doubles over again, wrapping her arms around herself as she slumps against the tree trunk. Her face contorts with anguish. She's terrified; grief-stricken at the thought of leaving._

_There's movement behind her and she already knows who it is without seeing. She's spun on the spot, feeling firm arms wrap around her, drawing her in, holding her tightly as she howls into Wheeler's chest._

_"I cannot do this," she sobs, choking back more tears. She clutches at him in a panic, twisting her hands into his saturated shirt, not willing to let go. "I do not want to leave!"_

_"I know, baby," he whispers hoarsely, rocking her slowly. "I —"_

_"It is not fair!" she wails. "I have never hurt anyone! Why is this happening?"_

_He shakes his head, and she cries harder, squirming closer and gasping into his chest._

_"I cannot do this," she moans. "I do not want to go!"_

_"I know," he repeats. He cups her face tenderly, kissing her forehead, her eyes and the tip of her nose. "I'm comin' with you."_

_She starts to cry again; trying to speak, trying to tell him how afraid she is of losing him; how terrified she is of getting her hopes up, only to be let down by circumstances beyond their control, but he shakes his head._

_"We need to talk, babe," he says. "You know we do."_

_She cries harder. "Yankee, they will not let you —"_

_"I have a plan," he says, wiping her tears away with his thumb. He kisses her lips softly, tenderly and she slumps in his arms. "But just hear me out. There's some stuff I've gotta get off my chest first. Been carryin' it around for far too long."_

_She sobs; fingers tugging at the drenched cotton of his shirt as he cradles her in his arms. He ducks his head low, lips brushing against her ear. His voice is low and soothing, a direct contrast to the erratic thump of her own heartbeat._

_"At the very least, I owe you the truth... because I've been tip-towin' around the subject for nine years and if I can't be honest with you now, then I don't deserve —"_

_She moans, about to reply but he kisses her again, shushing her._

_"But I —"_

_"Enough," he whispers. "Enough pretending. I'm done with it. Not gonna push it aside any longer."_

_"Oh God, Yankee —"_

_"I love you," he murmurs, tilting her chin and forcing her gaze upwards. "I always have. It's always been you."_

_A fresh wave of tears starts. She breaks down again, and he hugs her tighter, bumping his forehead gently against hers as the rain beats down harder around them._

_"I've loved you since the first day I met you — that day when you called me a sweet imperialist dog." He gives her a sad smile, tugging gently on her earlobe. "That was the point where I thought 'Yep. That's the girl for me.' And nothin's changed. You're perfect."_

_She gazes up at him with wide eyes; rain streaming down her face. "Wheeler, I —"_

_He shakes his head. "You're feisty and passionate. You're funny. Clever. Completely clueless when it comes to relationships though, I gotta say. Freakin' frustrating, actually."_

_She closes her eyes as they sway gently under the steady downpour._

_"You're kind. You're quirky. Drop-dead gorgeous — one look at you and I just…" He trails off with a sigh. "You're brave. Humble. You've got one hell of an independent streak. Stubborn to a fault and you shut yourself down when things get too hard or uncomfortable."_

_She winds her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. She knows he's right._

_"You look terrific in a bikini though, so I can forgive you," he offers, and she can't help but give him a weak smile. He sighs, pressing his forehead against hers again. "I adore you."_

_"Wheeler —"_

_"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispers. "I've just hung back all these years, figurin' that if I couldn't be with you, it was enough just to be around you."_

_She reaches out, touching his cheek in wonder. Another smile breaks through the tears._

_"In the back of my mind I always thought you were way outta my league. Plus, I was too much of an idiot to tell you how I really felt, beyond the flirtin'. So that's on me."_

_"Wheeler," she says softly. "You were never out of —"_

_"You said you'd hear me out," he warns, and she bites her lip, listening as the rain falls harder around them. "Let me say what I need to, then you're free to tell me to get lost."_

_She moves to argue, and he silences her again, pulling her hard against him and kissing her fiercely. Her knees buckle as she loses herself to him. He wraps an arm around her waist and hauls her back up to eye level again. She gasps, throwing her head back as he buries his face in her neck._

_"You're the first thing I think about when I wake up," he says; his mouth hot against her throat. "Last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. Can't say those night-time thoughts are entirely innocent, but you know I'm a degenerate, so that'll be no big surprise to you."_

_A bubble of laughter escapes her lips. It's unexpected, and she welcomes it. "I do not want to know."_

_"You're usually naked," he admits, and she struggles against him, smiling again. "Sometimes costumes are involved."_

_"Bozhe moy." She shoves him, and he laughs, wincing slightly with the movement._

_He pulls her back towards him; his voice hushed and close to her ear. "I've adored you for so long. So many years. I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with you, Lin."_

_She winds her fingers into his hair, pressing a kiss against his cheek and hugging him tightly._

_"That's the way it is — the way it's always been. And if you don't feel the same way, I'll respect you enough to let you go. But I can't bear the thought of you walkin' outta my life tomorrow mornin'. The thought of you leavin' on your own terrifies me."_

_"Nothing frightens you," she whispers. "You are fearless."_

_"Losin' you scares the livin' shit outta me." He cups her face in his hands, leaning forward and nuzzling her nose gently. "I love you. That's just the way it's gonna be. But it's your choice. I've said my piece."_

_She smiles, lulled by his hand moving through her hair. "I love you, too," she whispers, pressing another soft kiss to his mouth. "Ya lyublyu tebya."_

_"Thought as much," he mutters. "Stubborn mule."_

_"Da," she says._

_He squeezes her gently, resting his cheek beside hers. "So are we doin' this?"_

_"I want to… I want to be with you," she says slowly, closing her eyes as fear settles over her again. Worrying that despite their best intentions, it may not be possible. "I do, Jake. More than anything. I am so frightened that they will not allow you to come with me."_

_"Let me worry about that," he says. "I can be very persuasive."_

_"I know," she says faintly. "I have noticed that. But what if they still refuse to relocate —"_

_"Then we'll leave on our own," he says, gripping her hands. "I've got a few contacts. Probably shouldn't in our line of work, but hey."_

_She rests her chin on his shoulder, wiping the rain from her eyes. The dread and fear from earlier have been replaced by a cautious sense of optimism. Butterflies are swirling and they're not entirely unpleasant. "What about Kwame and the others? What about your family? You are giving them up by —"_

_"I just want you."_

_His hair is plastered over his forehead: water trailing in rivulets down his cheeks. His blue eyes are sparkling nonetheless and an impish grin is on his face. She reaches out, stroking his cheek with her fingers._

_He's willing to abandon the only life that he knows in order to be with her. He will cut contact with his friends and family so that she won't have to be alone. He's risking everything — selflessly and without hesitation._

_But that's who he is._

_She arches up, kissing him softly; lingering and slow, a contrast to the energy surging around them. Lightning flashes every few moments around them. Water beads on the tips of her eyelashes as his hands cup her face again, holding her to him. She eventually draws back; flattening her palms against his chest and gracing him with a watery smile._

_"What will we do for money? If they do not —"_

_"I have savings," he reassures her. "Mishka's already deposited your end of the house funds in case we need to access —"_

_"Oh?" She shakes her head slightly, surprised by this revelation. She wonders suddenly what their conversation entailed. "What else did my brother say to you?"_

_"You don't wanna know."_

_"Da, I do."_

_He rolls his eyes. "Yeah… told me in no uncertain terms to get my American butt in gear and seduce his sister."_

_"Bozhe moy," she coughs. "What did you tell him?"_

_He shrugs. "Told him I'm still workin' on it."_

_She hides her face against his good shoulder, embarrassed. "Mishka likes you."_

_"Poor judge of character."_

_"Nyet," she says, shaking her head. "He has been… how do you say? Like a broken record. Many years. Telling me to slow down with my life and start letting things happen. To… to allow certain people in."_

_"Uh-huh," he says, deadpan._

_She's struggling to articulate now. Not sure whether it's the situation or the biting cold affecting her ability to enunciate, but he seems to understand where she's coming from._

_"I am so sorry," she whispers. "I really am."_

_"For what?"_

_"For not… for keeping you… for not being honest with you. I wanted to, I have always… I am just so… I do not wish to be a burden. I worry that you are sacrificing…" She trails off, swallowing nervously. She's rambling now. Apologies have always been difficult for her. They show weakness. "I am so sorry, Wheeler. I have always had feelings for you... always cared for you. I know I am stubborn."_

_"S'alright." He shrugs, tipping his forehead against hers with a mischievous grin. He hugs her closer._

_"You have always taken care of me," she murmurs. "Even when I did not deserve it. You have always been so good to me."_

_He shrugs, sweeping the hair out of her eyes._

_"I did not wish to get my hopes up," she says, peering up at him, desperate to explain herself. "I was scared. I thought they would deny you… refuse you to come. I would not have been able to cope with that."_

_Wheeler nods._

_"I do not show my feelings very well," she says, still trying to explain — still trying to apologise — even though her nose and fingertips are going numb. "I know that. I have always… I used to be so nervous around you."_

_"Nervous?" he says, frowning slightly, and she shakes her head._

_"Nervous of how you made me feel," she says, trying to explain. "It was hard for me… You are so confident. Easy-going. So open with your feelings."_

_"Evidently not enough," he says with a faint smile._

_"Are you sure you wish to do this?" she asks, blinking up at him. "I worry about you, Yankee. You will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. It will be —"_

_"I'm fine with lookin' over my shoulder," he says, smiling down at her. "So long as it's your pretty face behind me."_

_She hugs him tightly, burying her face in his chest. She's tense again. Fretful. Thinking about the future. The uncertainty. Everything will change once the sun rises and she has no control over the outcome._

_"I am scared, Yankee," she whispers. "I am so scared. I have worked so hard. All of the study, it was all for nothing. I am not ready for this!"_

_"I know, baby."_

_"I am exhausted," she sobs hoarsely. "I feel I am being pulled in so many directions." The words are tumbling out as she blinks back fresh tears. "I feel drained, as though I have nothing left to give. And now this."_

_He nods. "It's been a really shitty few months."_

_"Kroi frightens me." She wipes her eyes again. "We will be unprotected and I would never forgive myself if anything happened to —"_

_"One thing at a time," he assures her. "Let's just get through tomorrow. We'll work out the rest later on."_

_"We will leave on our own?" she says, clutching his face, seeking confirmation. "If they do not allow you to come, we will leave together and —"_

_"Yep. I'll smuggle you out the fire escape tomorrow mornin' if I have to."_

_"All right." She bumps her forehead against his chest, feeling calmer as the rain increases around them. Another flash, followed by the low rumble of thunder. "Where would we go?"_

_"Anywhere but here," he mutters, glancing around the sodden grounds of the park. "I vote for an extended vacation regardless of what happens. Beach. Swimmin'. Cocktails."_

_"Rest," she whispers. It's been so long since she's had any time off._

_"Decent sleep-in would be a good start," he says. He smiles down at her. "We'll be all right, babe."_

_She nods, trembling but reassured as she pulls him closer; hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she says, kissing him again._

_"C'mon," he says, a crease in his brow as he inspects her closely. "You're like a popsicle. Turnin' purple."_

_"Cold," she murmurs. Her teeth have started chattering._

_He slings an arm across her shoulders and she burrows into him, letting him lead her back to the hotel._

* * *

"Whaddya mean, he's gone?"

Doctor Blight was livid, standing just outside the refuse room where the Earth Planeteer had been held — up until now, that is. Andre Kroi was behind her; arms folded and leaning against the wall, regarding the kid with a bored expression.

"I don't understand, he was there during the —"

"Who was guarding him?" she shrieked, bearing down on the pimply teen. He recoiled, stepping back in fear.

"Anderson was here, but —"

"Where the fuck is he?"

"I don't know," the kid pleaded, holding his hands out in a redundant effort to placate the mad woman. "He hasn't checked in. Neither has the entire back-up team. Five of our drivers have disappeared and —"

"We have company," she said, turning and glaring at Kroi. "Rest of 'em are here. If you'd done your job properly to begin with, we wouldn't be —"

" _Potrapyty tobi,_ " he said sharply, spitting on the white tiles and glaring back. "I barely got away, you stupid —"

"Find them," she said. "Pin them down. I don't care how, but make sure they're alive."

"And the little Russian girl?" Kroi's arm flung out, grasping the neck of the teen who was trying to slink away noticed. The boy gasped for breath as Kroi slammed him against the wall, frantically clawing at the meaty fist cutting off his air supply. "You will allow me some private time with my  _malenʹka divchyna?"_

"Bring her to me first. Need a girl-on-girl chat. Use her as leverage. I don't care. Just keep her alive until she's served her purpose. Won't matter what happens after that anyway."

"What do you mean?" Kroi glared at Blight suspiciously. She looked away quickly, folding her arms. She hadn't told him what the grand plan was.

"Just find them. Lock them down." Her headache was returning. "Bring her to me."

Kroi grunted, releasing the boy and slinking off down the corridor.

The teen slid to the floor; crouching on all fours as he regained his breath. A metallic scraping sound issued from somewhere above him and he stilled, feeling the touch of something sharp against his neck. A body was pressed against his side. A sickly sweet smell accompanied Blight. The smell of death.

"Goin home to see my baby," Blight crooned, flicking the blade against his skin and drawing blood. "Goin home to see my schmoopsie poo."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to extract himself but she held fast, wrapping her arms around him. They collapsed onto the ground awkwardly as Blight hooked her leg over; sitting across his hips and peering down at him. The knife was positioned above his throat.

"Wanna know how I got this scar?" she asked.

The kid shook his head vigorously but she pressed on regardless.

"I wasn't perfect enough," she said; her free hand touching the roughened, withered skin. "Sulphuric acid peel. Invigorating. I recommend you try it one day." She giggled, grinning down at him. "You'll feel like a new man."

Her amusement quickly turned to discomfort as a coughing fit tore through her. Seizing this moment of distraction, the boy pushed her off and scurried to his feet, running full pelt away without a second glance.

Blight sat up, slumped against the wall and cackling loudly. The halls were indeed nowhere near as busy as they should be. There were currently around thirty people on site and most had vanished.

She smiled to herself.

All of the brats were here. It was showtime.

* * *

"I feel like a worm on a hook," Linka whispered. "Bleak's grand plan."

"Bleak's a fuckin' idiot," Wheeler replied. "There was no way you were comin' in here alone."

"Why is there a hole in the ceiling?" she asked, peering up at the afternoon sunlight filtering into the large area. A large, transparent tarp covered the gap; fluttering in the desert breeze generated outside. "Do you think Blight —"

"No windows," Wheeler said. "Probably done to let in as much natural light as possible."

"You know, the last time I was here, there was a large statue of Anubis standing right over there," Linka said, pointing towards what she assumed was the middle of the galley kitchen. "It may still be there — not that I can see it. A little more overcrowded now."

"Is that the Egyptian dog-dude?"

" _Da_ ," she said. "Jackal, I think. I am impressed that you know that."

"Not just a pretty face."

"Didn't you say Ma-Ti was shot here?" Gi's voice piped up from behind them.

" _Da_ ," she replied, side-stepping around an ornate bathtub filled with moisturising cream samples. She sighed, her thoughts turning to her team mates back home. "I do not even know if he was all right…"

"I'm sure he was fine, Linka," Gi said. "I'll bet they're missing you as much as we did."

Linka nodded, biting her lip.

"Some serious shit in here," Wheeler muttered. "Can barely move."

Linka nodded, her mouth hanging open as she took in the sheer magnitude. "Blight had a rather large collection of strange things here back in my time, but I think she has increased her hoarding ten-fold."

The kitchen was packed to the brim.

Boxes, crates and supplies were stacked to the ceiling in some spots, perched precariously close to tipping over. The trio had no choice but to squeeze through narrow spaces, weaving their way through the over-packed room.

"At least you guys know what the supply runs were for," Wheeler said, glancing back at Gi.

"Kwame's gonna pitch a fit when he sees all this," Gi said, reaching into a random box and pulling out bars of pre-packaged soap and toothpaste. "Bastards have been keeping it all for themselves, leaving the rest of us with nothing."

"You expect anything less of the old bat?" Wheeler said. "Woman's nuts but she's lucid enough to stockpile this shit."

"Batteries," Gi said, picking up a pack of AA's and tossing them to Wheeler. "Kwame's definitely gonna want to cart all this back."

"Won't need to if Lin can power us back up before she goes."

"I am not confident," she said, glancing around nervously. "I will do my best but —"

Linka froze as a box on the other side of the room fell to the floor, seemingly of it's own accord. The contents scattered loudly and the trio dropped to the floor, seeking hiding places.

Linka watched with wide eyes as a can of food rolled along the tiled surface; coming to rest beside a stainless steel counter. She swallowed, recognising the bench as the same one Blight had been perched upon just before she'd been carried screaming towards the lab — and the gaping maw that had awaited her.

It occurred to her that she was tantalisingly close to heading home.

"Can you see anyone?" Gi's voice was low, barely audible. "Is someone there?"

"I do not know," she whispered back. "I have locked most of the people here down. There should not be many le —"

Another clattering sound startled her. Linka flattened herself against the boxes, risking a peek around and spotting a dark figure cross her field of vision, disappearing amongst the clutter.

_Der'mo._

She looked around, panicked; trying to find Wheeler but he was no longer visible. Gi's shoe was poking out from behind a large stack of pallets and she contemplated running to join her.

Another box of objects overturned nearby, but this time on the other side of the kitchen. She froze, trying to pin down Wheeler's location. The sound of a scuffle came from the same direction and she waited for the smoking evidence of the fire ring, but nothing happened.

More footsteps; quiet and creeping. Linka held her breath, sensing another presence close by. She squeezed herself in-between two boxes, holding her ring out in front of her, waiting for whomever it was to show themselves. Intent on blowing them through the hole in the ceiling.

A strangled yelp sounded, followed by dragging noises. Muffled cries and Linka's heart lurched, aware of the one person in the room who lacked access to the element needed to power her ring.

Defenceless.

A scream, followed by a loud crashing sound. She gasped, watching Gi's body hit the steel counter, before bouncing off onto the floor. The mystery figure — a man — suddenly appeared and Linka aimed her ring, stepping out with fury coursing through her veins.

"Wind!"

Objects went flying as the man leapt for cover.

She made her move, running and vaulting the steel bench and crouching down — doing her best to drag Gi away. Gi was dazed but conscious and in a great deal of pain.

"We have to go," she whispered, tugging at Gi's arm. "I cannot find —"

She backed up in shock as Andre Kroi stood front and centre amongst the mess she'd created, a furious look on his face. A gun was clutched tightly in his hand and she was suddenly terrified that history was about to repeat itself.

He ran at Linka without warning and she screamed, sending another gust in Kroi's direction. He lunged for the floor instead, skidding headfirst into the bench legs; arms outstretched. He quickly stumbled to his feet, aiming the gun in their direction and clambering over the counter.

With her heart in her mouth, she made a split-second decision. She sent the next gust of wind towards Gi, blowing her out of harm's way just as Kroi barrelled into her.

Linka was knocked to the floor; kicking and scratching wildly as he locked his arm around her neck; pressing the gun against her temple.

"You won't shoot me," she whispered, trembling. "You need me."

"I need you?" Kroi laughed, tugging her to her feet and pulling her back against his chest. "I do not need you, but I do intend on using you."

"Coward," she spat, struggling against him as he dragged her away. Her feet skidded against the tiles as she struggled, still trying to locate Wheeler. "You are nothing but a —"

"You think Blight is the issue?" He laughed again, grabbing her between the legs and lifting her off her feet. She shrieked, elbowing him hard in the ribs and she received a blow to the temple for her efforts. "You wait until I am finished with you,  _malyshka_. I will make it last for —"

"I am not afraid of you," she gasped, still dazed from the butt of the gun impacting upon her head. "I am going home and —"

"Move."

He pushed her onwards, guiding her through tightly-packed passages and areas.

"Where are you —"

She trailed off, passing those familiar double doors with the circular glass window. The lab. She knew Kwame and Ma-Ti were probably inside — searching for MAL's hardware — but instead of dragging her inside, Kroi continued onwards. She struggled again, glancing back at the lab doors with a sinking feeling as they wove their way through the compound.

They were deep within the building now. A left turn, then right. Winding. Rooms upon rooms lining the corridors. Some doors partly open and she moaned in fear, spotting a bloodied body manacled to a guerney.

Bleak was right. Blight had indeed been experimenting. She was terrified, whimpering as Kroi turned another corner. There was nowhere left to go, just a plain, nondescript door at the end of the hallway. Kroi gripped her by the hair and rapped three times on the knotted wood. He turned the handle and kicked the door open, shoving Linka inside.

She went sprawling to the floor; throwing her hands over her head as she crashed into the base of what looked like a circular bed.

With a terrified cry, she flipped herself over and tried to sit up, but Kroi's massive boot pressed down on her upper chest, holding her in place. Looking around, she was surrounded by pink. Pink walls, pink furniture, pink bed. The brightly-colored duvet dangled down over her face and she swatted it away as a second person came into view.

She stopped struggling, breathless with shock. Staring at the woman who had caused all this chaos and mayhem both within her past and her future.

Blight was barely recognisable now. The scar was the only physical feature that resembled the woman she knew. Her face was bloated. The scar was deathly pale like the rest of her face. Stretched and withered due to the bloating. She had lost all of her hair and Linka was shocked to see dark veins passing over her bare scalp and neck. Eyes sunken and she was missing a few of her teeth.

The walking dead.

Dressed in a dusty pink cowl, Blight quickly advanced on Linka; dropping to her knees and hovering over her, grinning wildly. The scent of death was overpowering; stinking and rotten.

Taking in a deep, ragged breath, Linka let loose a desolate scream as Kroi held her down firmly, until Blight's clammy hands descended upon her mouth in an effort to silence her.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for explicit sexual content.

_Her teeth are chattering as they stumble inside the hotel. The others are gone and the living area is quiet, save for the weather report on the television; announced by an over-enthusiastic presenter gesturing wildly in front of an animated screen._

_It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the forecast is for rain. Judging by the state of Linka's sodden clothes, the prediction should amuse her but it's a sob that escapes her lips instead. She's unable to suppress it._

_Wheeler's arm tightens around her shoulders. She's numb; letting him lead, eyes cast downward. She looks at her hands, noting the purple discolouration marking the nail-beds of her fingers. Realising that running out into the cold, wet night clad only in a t-shirt and shorts is probably the second dumbest thing she's ever done._

_Answering the CIA's phone call would be the first._

_She shivers, wiping her face with trembling hands as they enter her and Gi's bedroom, heading straight for the ensuite. Her eyes sweep over the mountain of clothes and possessions strewn all over the bed. Suitcase lying open in the center. Hair dryers, books and notepads filled with her meticulous note taking._

_The past few months are about to be tossed into that suitcase. It's all she has. The rest of her belongings are on Hope Island — doomed to remain there. Her clothes, her jewellery, her books, her family keepsakes. Her life._

_All the preparation and plans. The blood, sweat and tears. The sleepless nights. Lack of a social life. Preparing for a future that will no longer come to fruition._

_Her work, her qualifications and her history will simply cease to exist — much like her identity. It occurs to her that this is the final day of living with the name she was born with._

_The knowledge leaves her in a state of despair._

_Her face falls and she's struggling to compose herself. Wheeler is oblivious, stepping over the mass of wet towels and scrappy dark curls strewn about the floor — remnants of Gi's earlier hurried hatchet-job. She glances at the mirror as Wheeler flicks the heat lamps on and her reflection is worse than she thought._

_Dye is still clumped within her hair line. The rain has tracked brown streaks down her forehead and cheeks. Her fringe is lying flat against her skin and her face is stark white. Pasty, drained of all colour. Her shorter hair is starting to curl._

_Wheeler removes his arm from around her shoulders. He prods the mass of wet fabric with his foot — searching for a dry towel. Her eyes follow him around the small room._

_She stands against the wall, hands hanging rigidly by her side as she looks him over. Her heart starts to flutter, heat rising despite the cold, throwing herself headfirst into this moment of distraction — because it sure beats thinking about anything else._

_The outline of the bandage is visible beneath the wet cotton of his shirt, protecting the sutures underneath. Her cheeks flush, aware of the way the material clings to his broad chest. She knows what's underneath; courtesy of nine years living in such close quarters with him. He's got a body that most professional athletes would be jealous of._

_She glances down at her own figure. Slim, but soft curves in all the right places — slightly marred by self-doubt and a fragile awkwardness, but only when it comes to him._

_Her mouth is suddenly dry and she finds herself staring at him, teeth pressing upon her lip. Overcome by the need to feel his hands on her. He picks up a wet towel and opens his mouth to speak._

_She knows he's about to leave._

_She moves towards him without thinking — closing the distance. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she presses herself firmly against him; seeking him out, wanting him near._

_She tucks her head under his chin, feeling the tension slowly ebb from her body. Her hands are travelling of their own accord, sliding under his shirt and resting against the cool skin of his lower back. His body tenses, perhaps adjusting to the coldness of her touch._

_But perhaps not._

_Burrowing closer, she can smell the rain on his skin and clothes. Crisp and clear, with a hint of woody undertones. She breathes it in, closing her eyes and dragging the tip of her nose against the thready pulse at the base of his neck. He reaches out, caressing her cheek with his fingers._

_The wet towel he's holding drops to the floor. Tossed aside. Discarded, along with nine years of resistance the two may have been harboring about what's about to go down._

_She knows it._

_And she knows that he knows it._

_It's mutual. Unspoken._

_Winding her arms around his neck, she reaches up on tiptoes, tilting her face up and brushing her lips against his. She's breathless with anticipation and nerves. Eyes half-closed, she trembles as she closes the distance, kissing him tenderly._

_He kisses her back, cradling her face in his hands and deepening the contact to his liking. It's lingering and slow, almost tentative; his thumbs stroking back and forth over the soft skin of her cheeks._

_She breaks away with a contented sigh, resting her cheek alongside his own. She nods, a response to a question that was never actually uttered._

_Her hands slide under the front of his shirt this time, moving over the contours of his abdomen and chest before her fingers clutch the wet material. Stepping back against the shower screen, she pulls Wheeler forward, arching up and kissing him again. Encouraging him._

_It turns out he doesn't need much convincing._

_He kicks the bathroom door shut with his foot and wraps an arm around her waist. Nuzzling her cheek, he leans past, opening the shower door and reaching for the faucet. She feels the heat of the spray prickling the back of her neck and he raises her slightly, until the toes of her sandals are just touching his sneakers._

_He kicks his shoes off, and she does the same. They clatter to the floor as he braces himself with one hand against the shower stall, manoeuvring them inside and placing her fully-clothed under the spray._

_Her feet touch the ground again and she raises her head, blinking up at him as the warm water hits them. It's heaven, soaking through the fabric hanging loosely off their bodies._

_The pins and needles in her fingers are subsiding. She wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly._

_Her heart is beating hard — a side effect which has more to do with Wheeler's proximity than the blood beginning to circulate through her body. His mouth drops to her forehead and she smiles, stroking her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as they sway together under the shower head._

_Her worries about tomorrow have dissipated faster than the steam rising into the vents above their heads, overtaken by the urge to run her hands over his body._

_She can feel his breath, warm and steady upon her forehead. His arm slips around her waist, pulling her closer, and her heart skips a beat._

_She raises her face again, braving the spray as it beats down on their bodies. His palms are flat against the small of her back. They slip lower, sliding beneath the waistband of her shorts; kneading her, pressing her firmly to him and causing her breath to hitch and falter._

_He presses soft, unhurried kisses along her temple, cheek and jawline. She touches his face, angling up, eager to feel the press of his mouth again but he darts away with a knowing smile._

_She gives a soft noise of frustration. He's planning on drawing this out._

_She can't really blame him, though. She's enjoyed the long pursuit, quietly revelled in the attention. The thrill of the chase, but even she had to admit — he caught up with her years ago._

_Her shoulders make contact with the shower wall; too distracted to realise that he's backed her up against the green tiles. They're startlingly cool against her skin but the moment of discomfort passes once his lips resume their gentle exploration._

_The underside of her chin, base of her throat. Slow, unhurried movements. She throws her head back, panting softly as his mouth grazes the skin behind her earlobes. A low moan escapes her lips and she feels him smile against her neck, enjoying the reaction he's provoking._

_She reaches for him again, snaking her fingers through his hair in an effort to draw him closer, but he shakes his head, redirecting his attention to her throat again._

_The heat of his mouth on her skin coupled with the steady spray is heaven. His hands start to roam further, slipping further beneath her shorts and caressing her bottom. All she can do is cling to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as he grips her ass firmly and crushes her against him._

_She's so aroused she can't think straight; incapable of putting a coherent sentence together, but she has a feeling words won't be required tonight. She's thoroughly invested. Tonight's troubles have faded into the background, replaced with an overwhelming urge to touch and be touched._

_One hand twists into her hair, forcing her head back and raising her mouth to his. She sobs with relief as he leans forward and captures her lips with his own._

_She moans as he kisses her feverishly, and the pace explodes with an almost aggressive intensity._

_She claws at his shirt, twisting her hands into the material and reefing it up and over his head before she even realises what she's doing._

_It drops to the floor with a wet slap before his mouth finds hers again, bruising and domineering. He pushes himself between her thighs, shoving her against the tiles with enough force to knock the air from her lungs._

_Bottles of shampoo and body wash crash to the floor as she kisses him back frantically. Wriggling her hips closer to him, she runs her hands greedily over his body as the hot water cascades down around them._

_The shirt she's wearing is wrenched up and off before she has a chance to take a breath. Rough hands sweep over her bare skin. She bucks and shivers as he traces the swell of her breast through the thin cotton of her bra._

_Reaching back with shaking fingers, she fumbles through several attempts to unhook the fabric; impatient to feel the solid breadth of his chest against hers. She swears under her breath, unable get a hold on the clasp, but Wheeler’s patience also seems to be wearing thin. He practically rips the hooks apart before flinging it aside._

_He grabs her thighs and hoists her up roughly, using his hips to pin her body against the shower wall. She gives a breathy gasp against his mouth, curling her legs around his waist and jerking her hips towards him._

_She moans as he cups her breasts, his hands wide and warm on her skin as they squeeze and massage her firmly. She grinds against him, hugging him, burying her face in his neck with a heavy sigh. She's utterly lost in this. Drowning, aching for more._

_He hoists her higher, in the direct line of the shower head now. Rubbing the water from her face, she feels his arm slip around her waist. He takes a step away from the wall, forcing her body to bow backwards and lifting her breasts to him in the process._

_He lowers his head; his lips hovering tantalisingly close to her nipple. She shudders, anticipating his next move, fingers threading desperately into his hair in an effort to pull him in._

_His mouth closes over her, hot and wet against her skin. She thrusts her chest towards him, throwing her head back and drawing ragged gasps with each flick of his tongue._

_Lost in the sensation, she clutches his head; dragging her fingernails through his scalp as he switches his attentions to her other breast. She moans as he licks and sucks at her flesh with the same practiced patience._

_"Ya hochy tebya vnutri menya," she whispers close to his ear, dazed. She doesn’t recognise her own voice. "Pozhaluysta?"_

_His teeth graze her nipple, and she grips his face in her hands, forcing his gaze upwards and kissing him deeply._

_"Please?" she whispers again. He's still now. His hands have returned to her breasts, kneading gently, and she squirms with pleasure_. _"Jake, please. I need this."_

_She doesn't want to beg — too proud, but it's coming out that way regardless._

_She couldn't care less._

_He counter-balances, shifting her body downwards until she's slung low on his hips again, wrapped around him like a weed. Crushed against the wall again, she can feel him, hard and rigid between her legs._

_Acting on instincts she never thought she would possess, she forces her hand downward. The muscles in his stomach flutter as her fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans, pushing aside the boxers and curling possessively around his length._

_He groans; his fingers clamping down on her thighs. She hears a thump and the water stops abruptly. He hauls her away, lumbering out of the shower and sinking to his knees. They fall roughly to the floor together, still entwined, her hands already working to unbutton his fly._

_The soggy towels are bunched beneath her spine, cold and wet against her skin as she allows him to tug the last remnants of her clothing down over her hips._

_The heat lamp glares down on them. It hides nothing as they fall back into a messy heap on the floor. They kiss and squirm and rock together; a flurry of twisted limbs, whispered words and deep, ragged breathing._

_She sucks in a harsh breath as his hand pushes down between them, his fingers slipping between her legs. He teases her open with steady strokes of his thumb, finding her slippery and swollen with need. Her body jerks uncontrollably as he runs his touch back and forth — even more so when he curls two fingers deep within her, and she thinks she might just die from the pleasure it brings._

_”Wheeler...” she breathes, rocking her hips as his fingers slide in and out, his mouth hot against her breast again. “Oh my god...”_

_Heavy denim is kicked away as he eases himself between her thighs, settling his warm weight on top of her._

_With a heavy groan, he pushes himself inside her. She lets a soft sigh fall against his skin, revelling in the feel of him, wondering how she ever lived without this. He’s in no particular hurry, moving with an agonising, intentional slowness that leaves her breathless and squirming with anticipation._

_When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he stills; cradling her face gently in his hands. He nuzzles her nose and kisses her softly, allowing her - and himself, she suspects - time to adjust._

_She winds her arms around his neck and holds him tightly, whispering his name into his skin. She tells him that she loves him, revelling in the feel of him._

_She needs more, lifting her hips up off the floor in an effort to get him moving. He sets a slow, rhythmic pace; deep thrusts that cause her toes to curl and her breath to escape in shallow bursts._

_She feels full, stretched from within; their bodies now slapping together with a delicious, steady friction._

_Small sobs are escaping her lips. She has no control over them, surrendering to this out-of-body experience. For the first time, she's wondering if answering the CIA's phone call can indeed be thought of as the dumbest thing she's ever done. Denying herself this — keeping him at arms length is now the clear winner._

_He shifts his weight, forcing her thighs further apart and thrusting deeper. She cries out in pleasure, using her heels to anchor him in place, pulling him closer. Her hands sweep over his back and arms — his muscles tightly coiled beneath her touch._

_Her fingers skim the edge of the adhesive bandage covering his shoulder blade and she sighs, cradling his head and holding him to her. Whispering to him, she urges him on; soft murmurs and sharp moans when he thrusts at just the right angle in just the right spot._

_His movements are becoming more forceful; her body inching it's way across the wet tiles. Something eventually butts against her head and she reaches back blindly; disorientated, hands making contact with the baseboard of the bathroom vanity._

_"Oh," she says breathlessly, and she feels him grinning against her neck as he gathers her up and drags her clear._

_The towels have shifted. Her shoulders scrape against the tiles again and she swallows between breaths, coiling her legs around his waist again and surrendering to the pleasurable sensations stirring through her body._

_They move together in a desperate rhythm. A door slams somewhere within the hotel. Muffled voices, people heading out from a nearby room._

_He lowers his forehead to hers, cradling the back of her head within the crook of his arm. Gentle fingers trace her flushed face; stroking the hair away from her temple. Her eyes are closed but she gets the sense that he's watching her now. She feels euphoric. Loved and cared for. Protected._

_She throws her head to the side as he moves faster and harder. Something's building. It's molten; bubbling away below the surface. Rising in intensity and sufficient enough to have her crying out again in a language other than English._

_An orgasm wracks her body, pulsing and electric. Her body shakes and quivers as she rides it out, muffling her cries against his shoulder, bucking and writhing beneath him._

_It's enough to tip him over the edge. His body jerks and he collapses on top of her with a low groan, emptying himself within her._

_He twists a hand into her hair, laying the other alongside her cheek as they regain their breath, sweat cooling on their bodies. The exhaust fan continues to whir quietly above them, circulating air that would be otherwise unpleasant, if it weren't for Wheeler's comfortable weight warming her._

_"Jesus," he croaks after a few minutes. There's a half-hearted attempt to lift himself up onto his elbows, but he sinks back down with a sigh, unable to support his own weight. "Nope. Goddammit."_

_She's silent, blinking rapidly; her body still under the effect of the tremors passing through her. She gives a surprised squeal as he rolls her over until she's lying on top, draped over him. His hands caress her back and she relaxes; limbs feeling loose and floppy._

_"You all right?"_

_"Mmmm," she says, nuzzling into his neck. "Whaddabout you?"_

_He bites down gently on her shoulder. "Think I fucked my back up."_

_"Thass not good," she replies sleepily._

_"Blame you," he says. "You started it."_

_"Mmmm," she mumbles. Linka's lips and brain can't seem to coordinate their efforts. "Didden zacley try ta stop me."_

_He chuckles, finding her current condition highly amusing. Her eyes lull closed again, surrendering to the feel of his fingers stroking back and forth over her skin. It feels sublime._

_He picks away the dark clumps of discarded hair stuck to her body for a while, neither one of them feeling the need to break the comfortable silence that has descended._

_After fifteen minutes, common sense seems to prevail. Wheeler reluctantly pushes himself up into a sitting position, taking her with him until she's straddled within his lap. She slumps tiredly against his chest as he wraps an arm around her bare waist. It takes him several attempts to lift her up from the floor, but he eventually succeeds. He elbows the bathroom door open, carrying her towards the mattress._

_Her head lolls uselessly against his shoulder while Wheeler uses his free hand to shove the suitcase and mess onto the floor. He drops their combined weight heavily onto the double bed, and Linka rolls onto her side, curling up as the blankets are pulled over her. The bed lurches as he settles behind her._

_They lay in silence for a while. She's exhausted but not ready to sleep. She feels drunk, devoid of all thought — a rarity for her._

_Her body is still damp from the shower, yet ultra-sensitive to his wandering hands. His fingers skate down her waist and over her hip, before smoothing against her thigh. She stretches out, snuggling back against him._

_"Thad hasn't appened me b'fore," she says quietly, and he laughs, wrapping an arm around her._

_"What, the sex?"_

_"Nyet," she says, shaking her head. "Da udder thing."_

_"Really?" He seems genuinely surprised._

_"Uh huh."_

_"Never seen you so relaxed."_

_"Mmm."_

_"Okay." He chuckles again, and she feels his warm breath against the back of her neck. "Gonna have to get you off on a regular basis, sweetheart._

_She smiles to herself, quite okay with that arrangement. Reaching for his hand, she settles it over her breast, revelling in his closeness._

_She splays her fingers against the blanket, in a sensory haze. It's still raining outside, beating hard against the windows. She wonders where the others are — whether they were planning on leaving or whether it was a tactical decision designed to give them some privacy to sort themselves out._

_Rolling over, she winds her arms around his neck and snuggles against him. She tips her head back, smiling up at him. He kisses her softly._

_"Tahiti?" she whispers against his mouth. "Bora Bora?"_

_"Don't care," he says; that trademark smirk illuminated by the bathroom light. "So long as there's beer, burgers and beach chairs."_

_"They all start with b."_

_"Yep."_

_"Bikini?"_

_"That's a pre-requisite," he says gruffly, squeezing her as she giggles._

_She smiles back at him, running her hand through his hair fondly, admiring his handsome face. "You still need a hair cut, Yankee."_

_"Already tryin' to change me," he growls, and she cackles as he rolls her over and pins her to the mattress. She grins happily, hugging him as he nuzzles her neck, enjoying the feel of his hard body pressed against hers._

_They fit so well together. Tomorrow no longer seems so daunting with him beside her._

_"How is your chest?"_

_"Think I overdid it," he says, amused as he glances down at the bandage. "No regrets, though."_

_She nods, stifling a yawn. "We should get some sleep."_

_"Don't get too comfortable."_

_She smiles. "Why is that?"_

_"I'll give you half an hour," he says in a low voice, tracing the soft swell of her breast with the tip of his finger._

_A shiver runs through her. “And then what?”_

_"Then I'm plannin' on warmin' you up again."_

* * *

"Get her up," Blight ordered, tightening her grip on Linka's wrists and tugging her ring from her finger. Kroi grabbed her under the armpits, hauling the frightened girl to her feet.

"What are you —" she began, startled as Kroi shoved her onto the bed. She yelped as the bed linen flew up around her, barely able to catch her breath before Kroi was on all fours, crawling over her. Pinning her down, just like before — both in her dreams and after their time jump.

"Why should you get the happy ending?" Blight whispered. Her face was upside down, a mere inch from Linka's. She turned away, lashing out with her hands in an effort to claw and scratch at Blight. Kroi's gun struck her across the temple and she screamed in fright.

"Why are you doing —" she sobbed, eyes watering as Kroi struck her again. She fell back, dazed as Kroi tugged a pillowcase free from one of the plush pillows above her head.

Blight smirked, grabbing her wrists and holding them as Kroi tore the material into strips and bound her hands, followed by her ankles. She shrieked as Kroi leant forward. Her arms were forced above her head and tied off to something beyond her sight, perhaps a hook or nodule on the base of the mattress.

He smelt of sweat and alcohol; filthy clothes and with an expression utterly devoid of pity or remorse. She squirmed as he ran his hands over her body, licking his lips in anticipation. Linka groaned, struggling under Kroi's weight as he leant back on his haunches, looking her over.

"Leave us."

Kroi narrowed his eyes, glaring at Blight. "What?"

"Leave us," Blight repeated, taking the gun from Kroi. She waved the weapon in the direction of the door. "Find her friends."

"You promised me —"

"After I'm finished with her, idiot. Princess'll still be here when you get back. Find her little buddies. Lambert has —"

"Lambert was in the galley with me, taking care of fire —"

"Lambert's not answering his goddamn radio," she said bitterly. "Go."

With a disappointed glance in Linka's direction, he slunk off. Linka watched him leave, more apprehensive about his departure than she should have been.

"You," Blight whispered, feeling the featherlight touch of Blight's fingers skating over her neck and cheeks. She squirmed, desperate to free herself but Blight bent over her with an expression of intense hatred.

Linka's skin crawled. She felt sick, looking away as Blight tracked her fingers over her throat and chest.

"I asked you a question."

"What?" Linka gasped in pain, unprepared for Blight's fingers pinching down hard on her shoulder. She jerked her body to the side in an effort to escape.

"Why should you get the happy ending?" she repeated, bearing down on Linka with a ferocity that burnt. Placing the gun beside her, Blight peered down at Linka. Her eyes were milky and unfocused; cataracts clouding her vision. "What makes you so special?"

"Happy ending?" Linka cried, incredulous. "There was no happy ending for me, you saw to that! You murdered me!"

"Took everything from me," Blight whispered. "Thought you could escape me. Thought you were free. Stupid brat."

"What are you going —"

"I fixed you," she said, smiling. "Fixed your pretty, perfect little life, didn't I?"

"You ruined my life!" Linka spat, glaring at Blight. "For something that I was merely a participant —"

"It was beautiful," Blight said wonderingly, tugging at Linka's hair and raising her bloodshot eyes to hers. "Smooth. When you want something done, gotta do it yourself."

"Wh —"

"I used to be special. One of a kind. Sometimes..." she said, tapping her forehead with her finger. "It hurts. It burns. Right in the brain pan."

Linka shook her head, unable to keep up with the rapidly changing subject matter. "What —"

"What makes you so special," she repeated again, venom tinging her voice. She flicked Linka's hair over her face. "Thinking you could get away with it? Thinking you could take away the only thing that mattered? MAL was —"

"You know that wasn't —"

"MINE!" Blight shrieked and Linka recoiled in fright, eyes frantically searching for help that was not forthcoming. "HE WAS MINE! I created him! Down to every last line of script! Every algorithm, every code!"

"I DID NOT UPLOAD THE VIRUS!" Linka shouted back. "AND EVEN IF I DID —"

"Doesn't matter now anyway," Blight said bitterly, reaching underneath the quilt and retrieving a knife. Linka's heart skipped a beat, her wide eyes following the blade. "You're not leaving here alive."

"You need me," Linka said, swallowing nervously. "You need me to power —"

"Goin' home," Blight crooned, dangling the knife above Linka's face. "Goin' home to see my schmootzie poo."

"You —"

"Portal's gonna be back up and running. I'm heading back to the only thing that mattered."

Linka shook her head, unable to take her eyes off the blade waving precariously close to her face. "You cannot," she whispered. "You will condemn this world as well as mine. The timelines will not support —"

"Darling," she said, grinning, exposing gums that were drawn back and pale white. Thready veins were visible on Blight's skin — broken capillaries and purple discolouration underneath her eyes. Her bald head shone in the dull light.

"You cannot —"

"You know I never think that far ahead."

Linka's Blight had echoed exactly the same phrase just after the time jump.

"You have blamed everyone else but yourself over the years." Linka shook her head, knowing nothing she could say would make any difference to Blights plans. "You have brought this on your —"

"You had children."

The comment stopped her in her tracks. "What?"

"Little itty-bitty kiddies." She sat back across Linka's hips, fingering the tip of the knife. A shadow of a smirk crossed her face. "Thought about killing them too, you know."

Linka's blood ran cold. She stared up at Blight, her mouth dry. "Wh —"

"Two little ones. Little blonde girl, dancing around on the pavement. Doing cartwheels. Picking flowers. Pram. Baby," she said, trailing the tip of the knife across Linka's throat. "Wasn't expecting to find a little family when I went 'wabbit' huntin' that final time."

"You —"

Blight narrowed her eyes. "Records showed a husband, but your kids were kept well hidden. How you crossed international borders with them is a mystery."

"I wouldn't know," she replied softly.

"Didn't know what was coming. Watched you. Scoped the three of you out for a while before… you know," she said, thrusting her hand and winking. "Before you became acquainted with my umbrella."

Linka blinked, breathing heavily, unsure how to proceed.

"Sitting on a park bench at first," she said, tapping the blade against Linka's nose. "Perfectly put together. Perfect little planeteer with her perfect little children. Considered my options for a while there. Would have been too easy to —"

"You selfish —"

"Selfish?" Blight laughed, peering down at her. "Seemed more selfish to leave them motherless. Considered putting them out of their misery."

"Why didn't you?" Linka whispered.

"Time." Blight shrugged. "Had to stab and run. You know how it is."

"You are insane."

"It was the strangest thing," Blight laughed, peering down at Linka's stunned face. "One glance into the pram and I see this little baby just lying there. Looking up at me."

"What —"

"Red hair," she whispered, leaning back with a gleeful look on her face. "Red hair, and I thought… Surely not. Maybe just a coincidence?"

Linka shook her head, eyes wide as the knife passed over her nose and cheek.

"What are the chances," she said, grinning. "Didn't know at the time. Pyro never came up in any of my research. Never able to locate him after you all ditched your powers."

She clenched her fists, refusing to meet Blight's eyes.

"He's the daddy, isn't he?"

"Go to hell," Linka replied through gritted teeth as cold fingers gripped her chin, pushing her face to the side. She cringed, feeling Blight's breath on her forehead.

"Did I make little 'ol Firebug a widower?"

"I have nothing to —"

"You were married?" Blight tightened her grip, forcing Linka to look at her, fingers digging into her cheeks painfully. "Sweet little family?"

" _Da_ ," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Blight tutted, patting the top of Linka's head in a demeaning parody of sympathy. "Always assumed something was goin' on with —"

"So I keep hearing," she snapped. Movement caught her attention by the door and she saw someone slip inside unnoticed. She glanced back at Blight, hoping she remained distracted.

"Won't matter anyway."

"Why not?"

"Gonna put you all down. Won't have to suffer for much long —"

"What do you mean?" Another glance towards the door and Linka spotted a second figure slip inside; crouching low and disappearing from her view.

"The fire," Blight answered, looking dreamy. "Big white light is coming, princess. No escaping it."

"White light —"

"I'm dying," she said softly. "Played with fire. Got burnt. System's shutting down. No time."

"Spent your lifetime playin' with fire, Babs," a gruff voice said. "Hasn't exactly served you well."

Blight stiffened. She whirled around, staring in shock at Argos Bleak who stood by the wall; rifle slung over his shoulder and a glass beaker clutched in his hand.

"That's a face I haven't seen in many years," she said softly. "Argos Bl—"

"Whatever, you crazy god-damned —"

"Lambert mentioned someone else had been present when they'd first picked her up," she said, seeming surprised to see him. She frowned, scratching her head. "Obviously, he was a little light on the details."

"What the fuck have you done?"

"Does it matter?" she raised herself, climbing off Linka and standing beside the bed. "My younger self bring you through?"

"Yep."

"You volunteer?" she asked in a pleasant enough voice, taking a few cautious steps towards him. Smiling benignly.

"Unwilling participant. Kinda like blondie there," he said. "Earth boy says he found a fuckin' nuclear weapon in the lab. Plannin' on blowing us all to smithereens?

"Course not," she said smoothly, approaching him slowly. "Would I —"

"Where's your computer?"

"What?"

Bleak pointed towards the shattered monitor. "MAL's hard drive. It's not in the lab. I know the research and test drive files were on it. You showed me. Blondie said we'll need it to get home. Where is it?"

"Memory's not what it used to be," she said, shrugging. Her hands were clutched into fists and Linka knew the knife was still concealed somewhere within the folds of her cloak.

"Bleak, she's got a knife," she warned. "She's —"

Linka froze, startled as gentle hands gripped her tied wrists, undoing the knots anchoring her to the side of the mattress. She was dragged from the bed, sliding to the floor as Wheeler worked quickly to unwind the ropes on her ankles.

"Where did you go?" she whispered, relieved to see him. "You disapp —"

"Ran into that jackass from the museum," he muttered. "Bastard keeps usin' my head as a punchin' bag."

"Easy mistake to make," she said, and he made a face. "What is Bleak —"

"Kwame and Ma-Ti can't find MAL's old system. Assumed it would be in the lab, but —"

" _Bozhe moy,_ " she said, rubbing her forehead. "Is Gi all right?"

"She's got a headache, but other than that…"

"WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU? I'm the only one left, you pathetic excuse for a man! The only one who had the balls to —"

"Fuck you, Doctor Demented!"

Linka winced, hearing Blight's voice becoming frighteningly unstable as she and Bleak continued trading insults.

"She is not going to tell us," Linka remarked, glancing at Wheeler.

"I get the same feelin'," he began. He was tense, keeping his eyes down., purposely refusing to look in Blight's direction.

"Are you all right?"

He shook his head. His blue eyes were piercing. "Stay here much longer and I'm gonna throttle her with my bare hands."

"I know," she said softly, reaching for his hand and clutching it tightly. "We need to find the —"

Linka squealed as Blight lashed out, pummelling Bleak with her closed fist. The knife was contained within her other hand and it glinted in the air for a moment; swinging and moving to stab. Bleak easily dodged the blow, grabbing her wrist and striking her hand against the wall in an effort to disarm the weapon.

"C'mon Babs." He dragged her away, heading for the corridor. "We're goin' for a walk."

"You traitor! You piece of stinkin' garbage! I'm goin' home!" she bellowed, struggling against him. "MAL!"

"She has my ring," Linka called to Bleak, stepping forward after they'd disappeared from sight. A few moments later she heard a clattering sound as her ring was tossed just inside the doorway; Blight's loud protestations still echoing.

"Ah… thank you," she said, bending down to pick it up.

Shouts and gunshots echoing from other parts of the compound. She knew Tyreece would be bringing the rest of the teams in by now, securing the rest of the area. They made their way towards the lab, making several wrong turns and keeping their eyes open — Kroi hadn't reappeared and Linka was still on edge.

They pushed through the double doors and Linka watched the hive of activity going on in the lab. There were about twenty people crammed inside. Kwame and some of the others were tearing the the lab apart, searching for Blight's hard drive.

Tyreece, Sam and Matt were hunched over a large cylindrical object balanced precariously on a trolley. A happy face sticker was attached to the side and there was an argument brewing over how to best handle it.

A small voice floated over the top of the noise.

"You all right?"

Linka nodded, approaching Gi who was seated in a metal chair beside the time displacement equipment. Grace had her hands pressed against the back of Gi's head in an effort to stem the blood.

" _Da_. You?"

"Yeah," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Don't remember much."

"Where is Ma-Ti?"

"Bleak grabbed him on the way past. They're gonna see what they can extract from —"

"You have not seen Kroi?"

"Oh great," she said, frowning. "No one's pinned him down yet?"

Linka shook her head nervously. "Not yet."

"It is not here." Kwame had joined them. Hands on his hips, he stared around at the lab with a worried expression. "We cannot find it. Bleak said it was a HP laptop. All of her test runs and algorithms were on it."

" _Da_ ," Linka said. "I remembered seeing one in the lab before I —"

"MAL's mainframe was portable towards the end. She reconfigured him. I doubt Blight would have destroyed her laptop. She would need it to follow through —"

"Has anyone checked her room? Linka asked. "MAL's original monitor is there. The laptop may also be there."

Kwame's eyes widened. He clicked his fingers, beckoning towards a few others. They departed quickly, heading in the direction of Blight's bedroom.

Linka sighed, sitting on the floor beside Gi's chair and curling her legs underneath her. "It is getting dark."

"Yeah." Gi nodded, glancing around. "I noticed that."

"Is that bad?" Grace asked, looking down at Linka in confusion. She sat cross legged on the floor beside Linka, reaching for an arrow from the makeshift quiver slung over her shoulder. She clutched it in her hands, bending and warping the length. "Why —"

"Gaia told me to return home during daylight," she explained. "I am thinking you may end up with my company for another night."

"Reckon it's gonna be party central here tonight," Grace said, grinning at Gi. "Might be a good thing you're stayin'. You guys catch all the boxes of random shit lying around?"

"Yeah, I crashed into a few of them," Gi muttered. "Kroi threw me headfirst into a crate of wine."

"Oooh," Grace said, suddenly interested. "That's a waste of good alcohol."

"Kwame said there's enough food and supplies here to last us for another year or two."

"You will probably need to do an inventory of what is here."

Linka lent back, propping herself up with her hands. She glanced around at Wheeler and smiled gently at him, although he didn't seem to notice. He was leaning against the wall; arms folded and looking lost in thought. She sighed, turning her attention back to the girls again.

"Unmelted, unsquishy chocolate would be a good start," Grace said dreamily. "This place is a gold mine."

"Damn Blight and her supply runs," Gi muttered. "Wondering if she was even planning on —"

_We have found Kroi._

Ma-Ti's voice came through loud and clear, startling Linka. She raised her eyes, holding her breath, feeling the tension in the Heart Planeteer's voice.

"Are you all right, Ma-Ti?"

_Um. I guess so. Tried to attack us. Bleak was not very happy to see him. We have locked both him and Blight away in the refuse room. Kroi is looking a little worse for wear, if you get what I mean._

Linka's mouth dropped open in surprise. She knew their complicated history. "All right."

_We have also found the hardware. I've got the laptop, managed to pry an image from her mind. She had it locked away. I will bring the cords with me, not sure what goes with what. Hopefully Linka can sort through them._

Linka grinned, meeting Gi's eyes.

"Fantastic, Ma-Ti!"

_Bleak wants to know where Lambert is?"_

_"_ Unconscious and locked away in the fridge room," Wheeler said under his breath.

_All right. Back soon._

Ma-Ti cut off the communication abruptly just as Gi gave a happy fist-pump in the air. "Got him."

"You know how weird it is when you guys do that?" Grace asked quietly.

"What?" Gi asked. "Talking to ourselves?"

"Yeah." Grace scratched her head. "It's really off-putting."

"Sorry." Gi smiled, grasping Linka's hand and squeezing it gently. "Anyone else assume that this was gonna be harder?"

"Uh huh," Grace said. "Yep."

"I do not think Blight has much fight left in her," Linka said. "It is strange to see her like that."

"Mmm." Grace nodded, flicking the end of her arrow and watching the guys hunched over the missile, still arguing about what to do with it. "That thing's not gonna blow up on us, is it?" she asked worriedly.

Linka regarded her quietly for a moment, before turning to Wheeler. "Have you got my other ring?"

He raised his eyebrows, pulling the chain out from beneath his shirt and lifting it over his head. He passed it to Linka and walked away, hands in his pockets; evidently aware of what was about to happen. He headed towards Kwame who had just returned, looking relieved now that he no longer had to search for the missing technology.

Linka watched him go, knowing this process was going to be difficult for him. She sighed, rolling her thumb over the identical wind ring clutched in her hand.

"Grace?"

"Yeah?"

She smiled, twisting the jewellery within her fingers. "When I leave, my element will go back to the way it was."

"Oh?" Grace said, surprised. She frowned, stabbing the dirty tiles with the tip of her arrow. "Well, that sucks."

"There is a way around it. I have been told that by passing my ring on to someone, the wind element will remain stable."

"Uh huh," she said, not understanding. "Okay."

"I am giving it to you."

"Huh?" Grace's expression was almost comical. Her mouth hung open and Gi smirked, shoving her lightly. "What?"

"I wish for you to take it on."

"Oh shit," she whispered, shaking her head vehemently. Eyeing the ring with trepidation. "Oh no. No, I don't… no. I can't…"

"You do not have to use it," she explained patiently. "It just has to be passed on. Promised to someone and passed on, now that Gaia is no longer with us."

"I'll freakin' lose it," Grace said wide eyed. "I can't even find my underwear most mornings. I can't be trusted with —"

"Take it," Gi said. "Not everyday you get handed a super power."

"What about Tyreece?" Grace said, turning and thrusting her arrow in the direction of Kwame's second in command; currently wheeling the enormous nuclear weapon out of the lab with half-a-dozen helpers. "Seriously, he'd be —"

"I think you would be better off with it."

Linka reached forward, holding the ring out; offering it to the reluctant girl. She took it with trembling fingers, holding it in front of her face.

"Do you want to try it out first?" Linka asked.

"Hell no," Grace muttered, slipping it on her finger and covering it with her other hand. "End up blowin' myself into next Tuesday."

"Just don't say the W word by accident," Gi said, winking at Linka. "We all made those rookie mistakes in the beginning, didn't we Lin?"

" _Da_ ," she laughed. "The Yankee especially."

"Ah, thank you," Grace said, not quite knowing what to say. "I guess I'll try not to stuff up."

"It is in good hands," Linka said, hugging her tightly.

Gi and Grace's pleasant chatter continued as Linka wrapped her arms around her knees, glancing again at Wheeler who was standing with Kwame and the others on the other side of the lab. His back was to her, leaning casually against the wall; quiet observer amongst the vibrant discussion going on around him.

Linka felt a pang of guilt. She was so proud of him; so proud of who he had become and what he had achieved. Proud of the effort he'd put in to being around her again despite the difficult circumstances. So proud of the life he'd built for himself and their children.

A little lovesick whenever she found herself alone in his presence. Craving his company, his positivity and above all, his kindness.

She adored him.

The realisation no longer caused her discomfort or embarrassment. It didn't need to be analysed. Critiqued. Buried beneath layers of stubborn hostility.

It just  _was._

She smiled, finally feeling at peace as her eyes settled on the sleek machinery that would hopefully transport her home tomorrow.


	44. Chapter 44

_The numbers on the alarm clock beside the bed flash intermittently and she realises that someone is shaking her. She rolls heavily onto her side, rubbing her face and peering around blearily. Sleep settles over her again and she yawns, burrowing under the covers with a tired sigh. The bed lurches beside her._

_"Babe," Wheeler says, his voice low as he shakes her again. "They're here. I can hear 'em next door. Time to go."_

_It's still dark. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, trudging into the bathroom. She hears the shower turn on and she stretches, willing herself to wake up. She's exhausted. They'd had the opportunity to sleep — enough time to gain a few hours rest, but it wasn't to be._

_He'd followed through on last night's promise after all._

_Not that she was complaining. The cuddles; the idle chatter and quiet reflection had gradually given way to something else. She'd been warm and comfortable under the covers, receptive to his roaming hands. Touching and exploring. Stroking and teasing. Pressing the hard length of his body against hers._

_From there it had escalated quickly, reducing her to a sweating, writhing mess — pressed face-down into the mattress, stifling her cries against the rumpled sheets._

_He'd managed to coax some strong reactions from her the second time; enough to succumb completely. To lose herself within it. But she remembered his fingers twining with hers; recalled the way he'd held her afterwards._

_Her fragmented memories flutter off into daydream territory. She smiles into her pillow, listening to him swearing under his breath as he bustles around the bathroom._

_Wheeler reappears quickly; shirtless and wearing the still-damp jeans from last night. Just her eyes are peeking out from beneath the blanket; taking a moment to admire his muscular body and those errant thought patterns become hazy once more._

_He smacks her lightly on the butt through the bedsheets and slips out the door, closing it quietly behind him — evidently to gather his stuff and begin the 'negotiations' with the agents outside._

_She sits up, pulling the top sheet from the bed and wrapping it around herself. Entering the bathroom, she flicks the light on and showers quickly, keeping her hair away from the spray purely out of habit. She steps out, glancing up and wincing at her appearance in the mirror._

_Pale skin and blueish patches are present under her eyes. Her chest and shoulders are dotted with marks and bruises and she frowns, twisting and checking out the scrape marks covering her shoulder blades. Her hair is a dark, matted mess — wild and frizzy from the humidity. She tries running Gi's comb through but the action only adds to the excessive volume._

_She dresses quickly, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a warm pullover. Still trying to tidy her hair as she shoves as many things as she can into her suitcase, sorting the possessions that were so carefully organised the night before — now strewn haphazardly over the carpet. She drops down to her hands and knees, reaching under the bed and pulling her computer and cell phone cord out._

_"Need a hand?"_

_Gi is standing shyly by the door; barefoot and still dressed in her pyjamas. Linka nods, tucking her new short tresses behind her ears as Gi sinks down to the floor with her, tossing shoes and books inside the suitcase._

_Linka glances up, alarmed to see tears tracking down Gi's cheeks. "Are you all right?"_

_Gi sniffs, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand and shaking her head miserably. "No," she says. "No, I'm not."_

_Linka drops the phone charger inside her luggage and shuffles forward on her knees, wrapping her arms around Gi, embracing her tightly._

_"It's not fair," Gi says softly. "Am I never gonna see you again?"_

_"I don't know," Linka whispers, resting her chin on Gi's shoulder. A lump is forming in her throat as she nuzzles Gi's cheek. "I am not sure what will —"_

_"Are you scared?"_

_"Da," she breathes, being honest. "I am frightened."_

_Gi's eyes settle on the unmade bed and the corner of her mouth turns up. It occurs to her that Gi didn't return to their bedroom last night. She may have even spotted Wheeler slipping out of the room moments earlier — perhaps even waited around patiently for him to leave before she entered._

_Gi's eyes flick to the bed again. Wheeler's phone lays discarded on the bedside table. She raises her eyebrows._

_"So..."_

_"So?"_

_Gi smiles. Her eyes are bright. Hopeful. "Any new developments I need to know about?"_

_"Maybe."_

_"Maybe?" Gi leans back, passing her finger over a small bruise at the base of Linka's throat as she inspects the pink, mottled skin around it._

_"Da. Maybe."_

_"Uh huh." Gi grins, trailing her gaze over Linka's rapidly reddening face. "You do realise that the evidence pretty much speaks for itself?"_

_"We talked last night," she says softly, rubbing her neck self consciously. "Wheeler is coming with me."_

_"Thought as much." Gi breathes a sigh of relief, hugging her tighter. "You guys finally sort yourselves out last night?"_

_Linka nods as she glances back towards the bathroom. The rumpled towels are still lying in the same place. "In a manner of speaking."_

_"Well?" Gi sits back on her haunches, hands clasped in her lap and watching Linka expectantly. She quirks an eyebrow. "Can't leave me hanging."_

_Linka knows what she's fishing for. She laughs nervously, passing a hand through her hair. "Da."_

_"Yes? You guys…"_

_Linka nods quickly, unable to hide her grin, and Gi squeals with happiness._

_"God," she says, wiping her eyes. "Been waitin' all these years for you two to throw yourselves at each other." She beams at Linka, clutching her hands tightly. "Not even gonna have the chance to get the details, am I?"_

_"Bathroom floor," she whispers, and Gi claps a hand over her mouth in response. Linka's face turns beetroot red and she can't look Gi in the eye. "I dragged him into the shower with me and we… we ended up on the…" She trails off, gesturing towards the wet towels._

_"Oh my God," Gi breathes. She looks utterly delighted, despite the tears. "About time. All these years. Love you guys so much, you know that?"_

_"I know," she whispers. "I —"_

_"Should have happened years ago," Gi says, getting emotional again now. She glances towards the door nervously, and Linka knows she's aware of time slipping away. "Bet he rocked your world! How was it? No wait, don't answer if it makes you —"_

_"I did not know it was meant to be like that," she says shyly, unable to wipe the silly grin off her face. "I cannot even… it was amazing, I should have —" The rest of her sentence is muffled within Gi's silk pyjamas as she's crushed against her._

_"Oooh," Gi sobs, grinning and sniffling quietly; tiny hiccups coming from her mouth. "Okay. All right. That's all I need to know. I can rest a little easier now."_

_Linka laughs, soothed by Gi's hands rubbing warm circles into her knit pullover. Wheeler's irate voice floats through the walls and Linka purses her lips, knowing he's not going down without a fight._

_"I'm so happy for you," Gi breathes, pressing a kiss against Linka's cheek. "I really am. You guys… ah. I dunno. He just adores you. Always has. You guys are perfect."_

_"I know. I left it too long. I have no excuse."_

_"Russian pride?"_

_"Something like that," Linka says, smiling._

_"God, I'm gonna miss you," Gi whispers, regarding Linka fondly. "I'll miss our girly chats and just having you there. Borrowing your clothes. Sharing food. Asking you dumb questions and dragging you out shopping for new swimsuits."_

_"I did not mind," she says warmly. "I love shopping."_

_"Yeah," Gi says. Her eyes are bright and she's struggling to compose herself. Muffled tones are audible outside and she watches Gi bite her lip, glancing in the direction of the agitated voices._

_"I am so sorry it has to be this way," she whispers, touching Gi's cheek and struggling to compose herself. "You will look after yourself?"_

_"Yeah," Gi says huskily. They're both crying again as they hold one another tightly. "C'mon, we'd better get you organised."_

_Linka stands wearily, still tired as she zips up her suitcase and does a last minute search for any possessions left behind — emotional and barely holding herself together. It's all so surreal._

_"Oh God, I'm not ready for this," Gi murmurs. She reaches for Linka's hand, using the other to grab Linka's suitcase. They head out into the living area where Kwame is standing, looking nervous and uncertain._

_Gaia is also here. Linka's mouth drops open. She's so transparent that Linka can barely see her. A mere outline awash in pale mauve and transparent tresses. Her face is solemn. Concerned._

_"I did not think you would be here," Linka whispers. She's quite shocked at Gaia's appearance, but then it's been so long since she's been seen in the flesh — so to speak._

_"I couldn't miss this," Gaia says warmly. Her voice seems far away, as if carried on a breeze. "I'm so sorry, child."_

_Ma-Ti is stretched out on the couch under a blanket, but he's awake. He smiles at Linka reassuringly as Gi props the suitcase up beside the door and looks around._

_"Where is Wh —"_

_"You can't hear him?" Ma-Ti jacks his thumb in the direction of door. "Taken them back outside for a chat."_

_Linka leans against the edge of the couch, rubbing her face and collecting her thoughts. It's gone quiet in the hallway. She hopes that's a good sign._

_"Are you all right?" Kwame's arms wrap around her and she hugs him back fiercely, resting her cheek against his chest. "Will you be all right?"_

_"Da." She nods. "I think so."_

_"You will look after each other?"_

_She nods again. Her throat has closed up. Tears are welling and she wipes her eyes against his shirt, gripping the cotton between her fingers._

_Kwame sighs, squeezing her gently and stepping back, running a hand through his hair. "They are in a hurry, I think they have already —"_

_He doesn't get to finish. The door opens and Wheeler stalks in. Jones follows, leaving three men loitering in the hallway. Linka blinks, surprised (and annoyed) to see the chief analyst amongst them._

_Glaring sullenly at her, she doesn't get the chance to question his presence because Wheeler kicks the door shut. He gives her the thumbs up sign and she breathes a sigh of relief._

_"That analyst guy's an asshole," he mutters, dropping onto the couch and pulling her down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She twists, settling her legs across his lap and leaning into him, closing her eyes. Trying to block out the reality of the situation._

_"We doin' this? Goon squad have already nabbed someone downstairs. It's not Kroi. They wanna go."_

_"It's time, Planeteers," Gaia whispers. "I'm drawing too much energy by being here."_

_Kwame nods, looking around the room. "Final team beam, my friends."_

_"Yeah," Gi whispers._

_"Then let our powers combine. Earth."_

_"Fire."_

_"Wind."_

_Water."_

_"Heart."_

_She feels the familiar surge of power, followed by a flash of light. She opens her eyes to find Captain Planet standing beside Gaia. Arms crossed; even he seems alarmed to see her looking so fragile. He extends his arm and she takes it. Her form immediately strengthens and she smiles in gratitude._

_"Hi gang," Cap says, looking around in confusion. He scratches his head. "My… we're lookin' about as serious as Hoggish Greedly in a vegetable-eatin' contest."_

_"Hold that thought," Gaia says. "We have some pressing matters to attend to."_

_"Do you need the rings back, Gaia?" Ma-Ti asks, but she shakes her head._

_"Keep them. The elements will remain in your possession — you simply won't retain control of them."_

_"All right."_

_"I'm so sorry, Planeteers," she whispers. Gaia looks overwhelmed as she regards each of her team members. "I feel like I have failed you."_

_"We have failed you, Gaia," Kwame says. "We were not able to do enough. It became too much, too dangerous." He gestures towards Linka. "And now this."_

_"You haven't failed me," Gaia says. "You've done all you can. Control is slipping. We can no longer ignore the warning signs."_

_"Need to go," Jones says impatiently. Linka places a warning hand on Wheeler's chest as his body stiffens with annoyance._

_"Be safe," Gaia says, stepping forward and touching Linka's cheek. She sweeps the dishevelled hair away from her face with affection, turning her attention towards Wheeler and placing her hand over his head. "Look after each other."_

_"Yep."_

_"We'll leave them to say their goodbyes, shall we?" Gaia says, watching on as Cap strides forward, dropping to his knees and enveloping Linka and Wheeler in a bear hug. Linka's crushed against Wheeler's chest for a moment — breathless — but the moment passes just as quickly._

_"Take care, you —"_

_"Ahem." Jones is tapping his foot; arms crossed and looking distinctly annoyed. "We have to —"_

_"Seriously, dude?" Wheeler snaps; turning and glaring at the agent. "You guys are a fucking jo —"_

_Gaia raises her hand as she addresses Cap. "They're on a strict time limit. You and I need to talk."_

_Captain Planet raises his eyebrows but nods, nodding to the Planeteers as she leads him outside into the corridor, past the gang of agents whose agitated chatter dies down to nothing as the intimidating pair move through._

_Gi sits down heavily on the arm of the couch, staring at Jones who is still standing awkwardly by the door, arms folded. She gasps as Wheeler grabs her around the waist and drags her down beside him. She falls, slumping against Linka's back. He locks an arm around Gi's neck, pulling her in for a cuddle._

_"Come 'ere, mermaid," he says, and she laughs, hugging him back._

_"Gonna miss you, firebug. Gonna miss your inappropriate comments and your loud music," she says, crying openly now. "Gonna miss tripping over your clothes at 2 in the morning when I've gotta pee."_

_"I'll leave some shit here for ya," he says, tightening his arm around her and pressing a kiss on top of her head. "Somethin' to fall over whenever you're feelin' sentimental."_

_"Can't believe this is happening." Ma-Ti reaches for Linka's hand, holding it tightly within his own. "It's like losing a part of myself. Nine years…"_

_"Not going to miss the two of you arguing, though," Kwame says softly, and they all laugh._

_"Take care of yourselves," Ma-Ti says. He's looking a little misty-eyed and Linka nudges him with her foot, doing her best to hold it together._

_"We need to go," Jones says, and Ma-Ti moves to stand._

_"Wait," Gi gasps, still slumped against Wheeler's other side. She reaches for her cell phone and fumbles around with the screen. "Wait, can you take a picture for us? Please?"_

_He shrugs, pushing himself off the wall and reaching for it._

_"Kwame?" Gi says, beckoning for him to join them on the couch. He steps forward and settles himself between Wheeler and Ma-Ti, before grabbing Linka's legs and manoeuvring them over his lap. Linka feels someone clutch her hand. She closes her eyes again, pressing her nose against the side of Wheeler's face as his arm settles back around her._

_She's not in the mood for a photo. She doesn't feel like smiling. It's not a positive moment filled with smiles and laughter. No cause for celebration, or reminder of a happy occasion._

_She breathes out, trying to detach from the moment, concentrating on the feel of the roughened stubble bristling against her lips as she nuzzles Wheeler's cheek. The body wash still lingers on his skin from the shower and she focuses on this instead. She waits until she hears the familiar click of the camera. Two more snaps and Ma-Ti releases her hand._

_"Okay," Jones says after a few moments. "Gotta go."_

_Kwame stands, pulling Linka to her feet and moving to grab her luggage. She feels Gi's arm settle around her shoulders as they make their way towards the elevators. She's numb. On autopilot, scarcely believing the way events have unfolded over the past two weeks._

_They head down to the basement, filing out into the underground carpark. A black van awaits. Darkened windows and Linka's apprehension increases tenfold. She glances back at Wheeler, who's talking in hushed tones to Kwame._

_"Are you still happy with Sicily?"_

_"Yep."_

_"Only if it is viable," Kwame says quietly; his eyes on the agents who are currently distracted. "If you think it is too risky, don't make the trip. Don't come."_

_"Yep."_

_She can't hear the rest. Linka glances back, confused. Assuming — hoping — Wheeler will fill her in later. She opens her mouth to say something and finds herself crushed, in the middle of a tense and emotional group hug. Hushed goodbyes are said as she finally breaks down, hesitant to let go. Not ready for this. Scared and apprehensive about leaving the only good thing she's ever belonged to. Knowing tomorrow she'll wake up with them only in her memory._

_"Gotta go," one of the agents repeats. Wheeler has to gently extract her from Gi's panicky embrace. Ma-Ti wraps his arms around Gi, hugging her tightly as she cries uncontrollably. Linka finally climbs into the van, slumping into her seat and dropping her forehead into her palms, sobbing loudly._

_Wheeler is there. His arms wrap around her, cradling her against his chest, whispering to her. Reassuring her. She's beyond grateful that he's with her. There was no way she could have done this on her own. The van pulls away and she risks a glance out the window, desperate to see their faces one last time._

_But they're already gone from her sight._

* * *

"This is taking forever," Gi grumbled, staring ahead at the line that had formed outside the newly designated female bathroom. "Every man and their dog are looking to shower, now."

Grace nodded, eyeing the five women currently in front of them. "Same woman intent on world domination was ingenious enough to design her own gravity-fed hot water system. Go figure."

The compound was secure. Blight, Kroi and Lambert were safely locked down. The teams had spent the next few hours going room by room; taking inventory and pulling aside anyone they came into contact with who wasn't a member of the Belmont community. Housing them safely until they could decide what to do with them. Needing to ascertain whether the prisoners posed a threat or if they were simply reluctant followers of Blight's regime.

Linka sighed, eyeing the steam coming from the bathroom longingly. Kwame had been delighted to find the complicated hot-water set-up. An old-fashioned wood-fire oven sat alongside the exterior bathroom wall. Almost out of place outside amongst the elements, attached to large cisterns and connected to the bathroom water supply. So long as a regular supply of timber continued burning, it provided reasonably warm water.

The sheer amount of provisions stockpiled within the property was overwhelming, to say the least. Clothing, food, medical supplies, furniture, fresh water, weapons and ammunition, chemicals. There was even a room dedicated to reams of blank paper and stationary. Once an office; the computers and phones were long-since dormant. Gathering dust.

The mood was high. People were relaxed, many already celebrating. There was a constant rabble of noise echoing through the place. People bustling around; a joyful atmosphere.

Linka raked a hand through her hair, thankful to have the opportunity to wash — to feel half-human again. A group of men came barrelling towards them from the direction of the science labs. Linka stepped aside as she was nearly bowled over by an over-enthusiastic party-goer. He skidded to a stop and apologised profusely, before lumbering off towards the galley — wine bottle in hand.

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she muttered, moving forward in the line. The trio of shower stalls were now visible. "There will be a few hangovers tomorrow."

"Think the headaches will have already started," Gi said.

"Do you think that's real?" Grace asked, pointing to a large, framed painting on the wall. "Looks like a Rembrandt."

"It would not surprise me." Linka looked up, peering at the image of a small boat adrift on stormy seas, painted in soft, muted tones. "You know Rembrandt?"

"Studied art history in high school," she said, glaring at a tall blonde with short hair stepping out of the shower. "That was longer than a few minutes, Maria."

"Don't see a workin' watch on ya, Grace."

"Sixty seconds equals a minute, dude," Grace scowled, watching the girl saunter off towards the festivities. "Just in case math isn't your strong point."

"Fuck you, Grace."

Linka suppressed a grin as Grace extended her middle finger. Clutching the towel and fresh clothes to her chest, she lent against Gi, dropping her head onto her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her silken hair against her skin. It was reassuring. Blessed familiarity in a world so strange and alien to her.

It was getting harder now to distinguish between her past and alternate future. The images continued rolling on in her mind, blurring and blending into one semi-cohesive consciousness.

The memories would hit her with startling clarity. The flashes — segments of her alternate life were coming through during daylight hours now — when she was awake. Some were confronting. More recent were the ones that took her breath away.

Limbs entwined. Hands sweeping bare skin. Moving together, escalating towards frenzied depths that left her flushed and trembling. The dreams gave her a complete insight into how things had developed over time, and how their relationship had come full circle in this future she would now avoid — should they make it home.

She glanced around, wondering where Wheeler was. She hadn't seen him since the partying had began. Peals of laughter could be heard throughout the corridors. Hushed babbles. Wolf whistles and jeers. More people had arrived throughout the day. The atmosphere was electric, but she wasn't interested in joining in.

The awareness struck her — that in her timeline, Wheeler would have been the life of the party. Front and center amongst the crowd; his loud Brooklyn drawl resonating over the rabble.

"Where's Kwame?" Gi asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Haven't seen hi —"

"Watching Blight and the others, I think." Linka sighed, eyeing the showers with longing, eager to get cleaned up with something other than a wet washcloth. "What will you do after this, Gi? Will you return to the Metro community?"

One look at Gi's face said it all. Reluctance; a sense of dread and resignation. "Yeah. Suppose so."

"You do not sound like you are looking forward to it."

"Why would I," Gi muttered. "I've seen funerals with more lively people."

"Why do you stay?" she pressed, genuinely curious. "If you do not —"

"Where else would I go?"

Linka recoiled. The response floored her. "You could move interstate, or head —"

"I have no one else. No idea if my family are even still alive," she said. Her hair fell over her face as she stared ahead, lost in thought. "I was stuck here after the power went down. Wheeler wanted nothing to do with us. Ma-Ti's life was a little too primitive. Wasn't really even a choice for me. Didn't even have to think about it. Kwame wanted to stay and continue fighting so I did too."

"Maybe you have served your time, Gi," Linka said. She smiled gently, sweeping Gi's hair aside and hugging her. "You have given enough. You deserve to have a quiet life, away from all this. Maybe it is time for you to move on. Start again?"

"Amen," Grace muttered under her breath. "Once the roads are safe again, I'm outta here."

"Will you keep your ring, Gi?"

She seemed to think about it. "Yeah. I think so," Gi replied, casting her eyes towards Ma-Ti who was approaching them — damp hair and a towel wrapped around his shoulders. "What about you, monkey man?"

"Hmm?"

"Your ring. You gonna hold on to it?"

"I will pass it on," Ma-Ti said. He smiled at Linka, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a cuddle. "In all honesty, I want it as far away from me as possible."

"Getting too much?"

"Makes me ill. I had forced myself to forget. All those years, it took a toll on me. The grief and suffering…" He shrugged. "Now that our powers are back, I no longer wish to be burdened by it."

"If you're passing it on, I'd come up with a different sales pitch," Grace said. A shower became vacant and she pressed forward, throwing her towel over her shoulder and inadvertently whipping Gi's face in the process. "Yeah. I'm outta here."

"Ow," Gi grumbled. She rubbed her head, watching Grace close the shower stall behind her. "Reckon Blight will have any cameras lying around?"

"I doubt it," Ma-Ti said. "Tyreece said there are batteries in one of the storerooms. Some printers and televisions. You could try there, I guess."

"Might go snooping around later on," she said. "Might be time to replace that last photo we had as a team."

Linka smiled warmly. "Cannot hurt to look."

Gi raised her hand, peering at the bottle of raspberry shower gel clutched within. "Things you take for granted, huh."

"Mmm," Linka said. "I will need to borrow some of —"

"Oh God," Gi spluttered, cackling into her palm. She pointed and they all turned in the same direction, staring at two young men bolting towards them.

Linka's eyes widened as she realised they were naked. She stepped back in shock as they barrelled past amidst screams of laughter. " _Bozhe moy_ , what —"

"If you've got it, flaunt it," Gi laughed. Ma-Ti covered her eyes and she struggled against him, doing her best to pry his fingers away in order to catch a glimpse. "Get off me, Ma-Ti."

"Your delicate eyes don't need to —"

"Yeah they do," Gi said, elbowing Ma-Ti in the ribs and shoving him playfully. "Moron."

Linka chuckled, pointing to the showers. "Your turn."

Gi grinned, walking quickly to an empty stall and disappearing inside. Linka smiled, glancing back towards the fun and frivolity going on around her, aware that Ma-Ti was watching her closely.

"How are you doing?"

"All right," she said. She leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning for a familiar face. "Have you seen Wheeler?"

"Spotted him at the showers a little while ago. Said he was going to bed."

"Oh." Linka hung her head, unable to hide her disappointment. "All right."

"Want me to check where he is?"

" _Nyet_ ," she said quickly, giving him a dismissive wave. "It is fine. I do not wish to complicate things for him."

Ma-Ti passed his thumb over his ring, staring at a point above Linka's shoulder. "There's a silver long-haul truck towards the back of the compound. Under an awning. He's in there."

"Oh, I do not wish to burden him further, he —"

"He says it's fine." He squeezed her affectionately, readjusting his towel. "You are certainly not a burden."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He gestured towards the showers. "Looks like you're next in line."

"Oh," she said, hurrying towards the empty stall. "Thank you."

"Have a good night," he called, giving her a wave and wandering towards the galley. "See you in the morning."

 


	45. Chapter 45

"Another truck?" Linka asked, peering up at him with a shy smile. She gripped his outstretched hand as he pulled her up into the cabin. She clambered in on her hands and knees in a rather ungraceful manner.

"Hey."

She paused, looking around the surprisingly spacious cab before catching the sleeping bag he tossed in her direction. "You seem to have a thing for long-haul sleeping compartments, Yankee."

"It's a Merc. Figured at the very least it'd be comfortable."

"Oh." She clutched the bag to her chest, hugging it tightly, seeming almost nervous in his presence. "You are not joining the party?"

He shook his head, glancing back towards the compound. "Nah. Bunch of morons gettin' drunk and actin' stupid doesn't appeal to me."

"The Wheeler I know would have been right in the middle of it."

"Yeah." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I think my chandelier-swingin' days are over, babe."

He watched her unzip and unroll the sleeping bag over her legs, throwing the other end towards him. He nudged her feet as she settled back against the wall, smiling gently at him. Her hair fell in damp waves around her face, tumbling over her shoulders. Dressed in a loose cotton top and jeans; a long beige cardigan was wrapped around her, protecting her from the cold desert air outside.

"Where'd you get the clothes?"

"Ah. Tonight's wardrobe is courtesy of Macy's," she said, smoothing her hands over the top. "For the record, Blight has also been stockpiling Banana Republic, Old Navy and Tommy Hilfiger."

"Better than pink spandex."

Linka laughed, nudging his foot again. "There are also men running around outside in Scooby Doo costumes. And some without clothes at all."

"Uh huh. Okay." He grinned suddenly. "Check 'em out?"

" _Nyet_ ," she replied, indignant. "Gi did, though."

"Perve."

She gave him a radiant smile, smoothing her hands over the soft downy fabric draped over her lap. Delicate hands and long, slender fingers, just as he remembered them.

He wondered if it was a good idea for her to be here.

She still took his breath away.

He reached for his backpack with a resigned sigh, rummaging around for a moment. Pulling out an old, tattered box, he handed it to her. She took it, a question forming on her lips.

"What —"

"Kept you waitin' long enough." He shrugged, nodding towards the innocuous offering. "Thought you might wanna catch up."

She frowned, pulling the lid off and glancing down at the assortment of papers and photos contained within.

"Oh," she whispered, her eyes wide as she held an image up in front of her face, squinting due to the poor light. "Is this —"

The fire ring flicked on and he raised himself, shuffling over and taking a seat beside her. Propping his arm up behind her back, he rested his chin on her shoulder as she flicked through the images with delight.

"Are they in order?"

"You really gonna ask me that?" he snorted. "You know organisation was never my thing."

"Oh," she whispered, passing her finger over the glossy photo. "Oh goodness."

"First family photo," he said, smiling at the image of the two of them sitting together in a delivery ward — exhausted but grinning nonetheless, cradling a yawning baby wrapped in the hospital-issue candy-stripe blanket. "Hannah would have only been about an hour old."

"I am looking a little tired," she observed.

"Twenty-two hour labor with nothing more than a little gas. Absolute trooper."

"Really?"

"Yep," he said. "Can't say the same for me. I was a wreck."

She laughed. "She was a good baby?"

"God, no. We had a rough time, initially. Bad reflux, but things settled after the first three months."

He watched her flick through more photos, taking the time to study each one closely. One seemed to catch her eye; the two of them mucking around against the white-washed walls of Santorini. The calm turquoise waters of the Aegean sea glistened in the background. They were laughing — his arm clutched around her waist and tipping her backwards.

She glanced up at him. "Greece?"

He nodded. "Wedding day."

"Oh," she murmured, passing her finger over the short lace dress her other self was wearing. "I have seen this dress before."

"Dreams?"

She smiled to herself. "Not exactly.”

He reached out distractedly, brushing Linka's hair away from her face as she filed through the remainder. She stopped at the photo of Wheeler passed-out on the couch amidst a sea of toys; a newborn baby curled up on his bare chest. Both were sleeping peacefully.

"Eli?"

"Yep."

She smiled, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. "You always could sleep anywhere."

"So can the little guy."

"You look a little uncomfortable."

"Probably had a barbie doll head lodged up my butt."

She giggled, leafing through more. Parks, restaurants, at the beach, front yard;  _his_  Linka lazing in a deck chair by a tropical pool in a bikini, with a floppy hat and sunglasses. Grinning widely; her rounded stomach was on display. She inspected herself closely.

"It is strange to see myself like this."

"Pregnancy definitely suited you."

Linka leaned forward suddenly, scrutinising something that caught her attention.

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she breathed, glancing at him and pointing at her future self's chest. "Look at the size of my —"

"God bless hormones," he laughed. "Few extra cup sizes there."

" _Oy_ ," she breathed. "I am sure you had no complaints?"

"None whatsoever," he replied, winking back at her. "Made good use of 'em."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, turning her attention back to the box. She leaned forward, pulling out an old, tarnished chain with a dainty clasp.

"Oh, God," she whispered, running her fingers over it's length, seeming to recognise it. Her eyes were bright with tears as she held onto the chain tightly. "I have seen this before."

He nodded.

"You gave this to me, just after you were shot."

"Yep."

"Mexico. You went back for it — I did not know."

"Uh huh."

She wiped her eyes, gazing up at the ceiling in an effort to compose herself. "You have held onto it? Onto all of this?"

"Yep."

He watched her take a deep breath, threading the necklace through her fingers. "You are still holding onto me..."

He shrugged. "Hard to let go when I knew you'd be walkin' back through my door again… so to speak."

She took his hand carefully, pressing it gently between her palms. "You know I would have wanted you to move on. You deserve to be happy, Yankee. I —"

"I'm doin' all right, babe," he replied. "Really, I —"

"I worry about you," she said, pressing on with steely determination. "You are still young. I do not wish for you to be alone. You can still have a good life."

He shifted uncomfortably, aware that this was probably the weirdest conversation on record — being told by your dead wife to let her go.

"I just want you to be happy.  _She_  would have wanted that."

"You know, I think I'll be all right," he said, squeezing her hand. "Hasn't been as hard as I thought havin' you here."

"You will keep in contact with the others?"

"Yeah," he said. "Don't think I'll have a choice. Gi'll smack the shit outta me otherwise."

"Maybe she and Grace can head back home with you?" Her tone was hopeful. "Gi is struggling here. I know she would love to see the children. To have a relationship with them and Grace is wanting to head back towards the eastern coast eventually. Maybe they could both return with you."

He winced, opening his mouth to speak, but she seemed to anticipate his reluctance.

"Please, Yankee? Would you do it for me?"

"Ugh," he said, exasperated. "Six feet under and still tryin' to tell me what to do."

"And that is why you love me," she said, crossing her arms and fixing him with that stubborn expression he knew so well.

"All right," he said with a sigh. "There's a single guy down the road. Collects glass bottles and shit. Might be a match made in heaven."

"Thank you," she said, relieved. "I think she needs a new start. It would mean a lot for her to have a relationship with the  _malen'kiye_."

"Aunty Gi," Wheeler murmured, nudging Linka with his shoulder. "Could probably use the free baby-sittin'."

" _Da_."

"Still a pain in my ass, girl."

"So you keep telling me," she laughed, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "You are a good man, Jake Wheeler."

"Don't tell anyone."

"I promise to maintain your reputation."

"Would you do anything differently?" He dropped down onto his side, still gripping her hand and tugging gently, encouraging her to lie the length of her body beside him. "Would you change anything?"

"When I am back home?" She laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head in wonder. "Where do I begin?"

She settled down onto her back, and he propped himself up on an elbow, soaking up those much-loved features. The creamy, smooth skin, the high cheekbones and full lips. Those clear, green eyes that were capable of radiating such warmth and humour and affection. They were committed to memory; imprinted upon his brain and stamped within his heart.

The memories no longer caused him physical pain, however. Right now — at this moment in time — having her here seemed inconsequential.

He briefly wondered what that meant.

He sighed, gathering her up and pulling her close to his body. Her arms went around him, and he closed his eyes, resigning himself to the sensation of her fingers stroking lightly over his skin and through his hair.

The scent of raspberries enveloped him. He breathed her in, ducking his head and nuzzling the soft swell of her breasts, and he felt her still in his arms. He could hear her heart thumping loudly against his ear.

"I would do things differently," she whispered, dipping low and pressing a hard kiss to his forehead. "There are things I would change."

He rolled her over, pinning her beneath him and moulding himself to her curves. She hugged him back fiercely. Shifting his body between her legs, he stroked her cheek; drawing his thumb over her lips as she gazed up at him.

Lowering himself, Wheeler kissed her tenderly. She gave a breathy sigh against his mouth, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He moved lower, seeking out the graceful curve of her throat; pressing his mouth against her pulse and sucking lightly.

"I have seen us together."

Her voice trembled. She threw her head to the side, reacting to the heat of his mouth and tongue against her skin. Six years of intimacy had ensured an innate knowledge of her sensitive spots and he made good use of it.

"What have you seen?"

"I… uh," she whispered. Her body arched, seeming to forget the question as she panted softly beneath him.

"What have you seen?" he repeated.

Her breathing was shallow, her face flushed and he knew how aroused she was. He swept the hair out of her eyes, and she gazed back at him beseechingly.

"I —"

"What were we doin'?"

"In the shower. On the floor," she gasped, fumbling for the bottom of his shirt and attempting to drag it upwards.

He gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head against the mattress, doing his best to maintain an element of control. Knowing that once his shirt came off, the rest would soon follow. She groaned in frustration.

He ducked his head lower, brushing his mouth against the soft mounds covered by thin cotton. He knew he was getting carried away but at this point in time, he couldn't care less. He nuzzled her breasts gently, causing her to whimper and plead.

"What would you do differently? When you're back home?"

" _Der'mo."_ Her voice was ragged as he gazed down at her — distracted by red-flushed lips that begged to be kissed.

"Repeatin' myself quite a lot here, babe," he grinned. "What would ya do differently?"

"Would dragging my Wheeler into bed be too forward?"

He smiled. "Guarantee you he won't say no."

"Neither will I," she whispered, locking eyes with him. He held her firm, using his free hand to trail a path down her throat and chest. He drew her blouse up, revealing the pale, smooth skin beneath, leaving her stomach and just the underside of her breasts exposed. She held her breath, rolling her hips towards him and was rewarded as he lowered his mouth, kissing and nibbling his way along her ribs and waist.

He was like a moth to the flame — unable to help himself.

Passing the point of no return. The warning signs were flashing; all the things that were screaming at him to stop. The implications that needed to be considered; yet those implications had changed from what they were originally. No longer concerned with being intimate with her, or growing attached to her again — the fact that he had no protection was the only thing playing on his mind.

He kissed her belly button and pulled her top back down, smoothing it over her taut stomach as she blinked up at him mutely.

"Jesus," he whispered, shaking himself slightly. She raised her head, eyes glazed as he entwined his fingers within hers, kissing her softly. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" she said, breathless. "Why —"

"I just think —"

"I have spent my whole life thinking!" she cried. She bit her lip, trembling, and he released her hands, alarmed to see her upset. "It is all I do!"

"Honey, we need to —"

"It has controlled my life, Wheeler! Thinking about my future and how to improve things — make things better! How to fix things! Thinking of ways to improve myself! Yet I wasted so much time thinking of reasons not to be with the only person who ever mattered! Thinking got me nowhere!"

She burst into tears, wrenching away from him, rolling onto her side and curling into a foetal position.

"Oh babe." He manouvered himself in front of her, gently extracting the arms held rigidly across her chest, holding her as she cried wet tears against his neck. She seemed to relent; her body falling limp against him.

"I am so sorry," she sobbed, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "I am so, so sorry, Wheeler. I have no right to act like this —"

He hugged her tighter, pressing his forehead to hers. "S'alright."

"I do not understand. I feel so strange. I have so many feelings and memories and pictures running through my head. They do not belong to me… but yet they are mine!"

He nodded, wiping her face with the pad of his thumb. Her long lashes were clumped together and he ducked his head, kissing her closed eyelids. She shuddered, winding her hands into his shirt and burrowing closer.

"You asked me what I would change," she said softly, raising her face to his, and he kissed her again. "I would stop letting my thoughts control my life."

He nodded, recalling a similar conversation with his Linka early on in their relationship.

A regret.

"I can no longer tell where I end and where  _she_  starts," Linka said softly. "I am so confused."

"I know."

"But I am not confused about you," she whispered, winding her arms around his neck again. Nuzzling his cheek with her nose, she regarded him solemnly. "But I understand if it will be too difficult. I don't wish to complicate things for —"

"I just don't wanna knock you up before I send you back," he admitted, and her eyes widened in surprise; evidently not expecting this reasoning. Probably having assumed his reluctance was due to the emotional toll on him, rather than the potential physical toll on her.

"Oh," she said, sniffling quietly as she got herself under control again. "It is fine. I am not currently… I am at a safe time in my cycle."

Her teeth pressed upon her lip— her face blotchy and streaked with tears as she reached out and touched his face. She looked so young and so vulnerable.

Still beautiful.

He slid his hand underneath her shirt and cupped her breast, rolling and plucking her nipple between his fingers, knowing how much she liked it. She slumped back against the mattress again with a soft sigh, clenching and unclenching her fingers against his chest.

It gave him time to think — time to consider his options.

"You met Yogi Bear yet?"

"What?" she croaked. Her breath swept hot and fast against his cheek. "I do not —"

"Brad," he said. "Park ranger."

"No. Why?"

"Got a look at your picnic basket before I did," he said, grinning, and she smacked him lightly. "In my timeline, anyway. Just tryin' to figure out where you're up to in terms of… you know."

"Oh. I do not know this Brad." She shook her head; her hair fanning prettily around her face as he rolled her roughly onto her back again. "I have never… not technically, anyway."

"M'kay." He unbuttoned her top slowly; eyes lingering on her soft curves and that flawless, milky skin. Trailing his fingers over her breasts, he kneaded her flesh gently; his mouth dipping low and resuming it's gentle exploration. "I can work with that."

She made a soft noise, sinking back against the sleeping bag as his hand slipped down between their bodies. He opened her jeans, sliding under the denim and rubbing her through her panties with steady strokes of his thumb. He could feel her arousal as she rocked against him; her breathing deep and ragged.

Because he knew just where to touch her, how to please her. How to make her squirm with pleasure.

She whispered something, dazed. A combination of garbled Russian and broken English. He smiled against her breast, recalling the way she would lose the ability to articulate when they were in bed together. How she would let herself go — like a finely-tuned piano, he knew how to play her. It was the only time she lost control completely.

And he felt the overwhelming urge to test that theory. To close the circle of grief.

To say goodbye.

Her lips parted; clothes askew and face flushed prettily. Her chest rose and fell as she watched him expectantly, and that lingering flare of doubt and uncertainty was annihilated in that moment. 

_Fuck it._

Wheeler lunged forward, gripping the waistband of her jeans and panties and reefing them down her legs. He threw them aside, gripping her thighs and dragging her towards him.

She gasped, arching her back and pulling the remainder of her clothing up and over her arms until she was naked and trembling; fingers flexing against the rumpled sleeping bag. Her flaxen hair spilled in long waves over her shoulders, trailing down her arms.

His eyes travelled over her hungrily — soaking up the banquet lying before him. He dipped low, mouthing open kisses over her ribs and stomach; then back to her breasts again. He sucked and licked at her flesh while his fingers worked deftly to find their target again. She bucked and shivered beneath him; squirming breathlessly.

He settled himself between her thighs, securing her wrists above her head once again and kissing her languidly; intent on warming her up before he eventually brought her crashing back down.

But that would come later.

This was their time.

He was in no hurry, after all.


	46. Chapter 46

_Budgetary cutbacks._

_It's the only thing that springs to Linka's mind._

_The CIA's accomodation is sparsely decorated — cheap furniture that's chipped and heavily in need of updating. The couch is a relic from the nineteen-seventies, as is the tattered quilt cover in the bedroom._

_The location seems to be in the middle of a major business district — from what she saw upon her arrival, anyway. The restricted view from the window grants a small snap-shot of her surroundings, but they keep ushering her away from it._

_It's quiet though, and she thanks her lucky stars for that small mercy._

_She feels like a child. It's been twenty-four hours and they've barely left her alone long enough to use the bathroom. Someone is always hovering nearby; some suited goon permanently attached to their cell phone, whether they're out in the hallway or trying to act invisible by the door._

_There's not much to do. A trashy soap opera is on the television and she sighs, folding her legs underneath herself and resting her cheek on the back of the couch. Only half watching._

_Annoyingly attractive actors. Long, withering looks and breathy conversation. Pretentious names like Echo and Langford. Raider Livingstone. It's quite laughable, really._

_Waiting around is the hardest part. Their identification was shredded last night. New identities are apparently on their way. She wonders what her new name will be. What nationality. Where they will send them._

_Her eyes settle on the lead computer analyst — her current babysitter. Dave, an unassuming name for such a pompous ublyudok — or a 'complete fucking douche-canoe', as Wheeler has so aptly put it._

_Dave seems nervous._

_Sitting stiffly at the kitchen table, he's been on his phone for at least the past half hour, glancing at her regularly when he thinks she's not looking. He's being overly nice to her, and just this fact is enough to set off some alarm bells. His pleasant manner is unsettling._

_Asking if she needs anything. Peppering her with questions. Smiling at her, almost a forced sense of good cheer._

_He's barely even curled his lips in a semi-upward fashion in all the time that she's known him. She's used to him sneering. Belittling and deriding. Disdain is the only expression that has tainted their past interactions._

_There's a snaggle-tooth that's evident when he smiles. She's never noticed it before. Linka watches him for a moment, eyes narrowed and he looks up. Sweat has broken out on his brow, but he gives her that stupid jack-rabbit grin again._

_She turns her attention back to the television._

_The door opens and she turns, raising her eyebrows as Wheeler lunges in. He's pale and tense, breathing heavily, and she sits up straighter, watching him with mild concern. His hands are empty._

_"Forget the coffees, Yankee?"_

_"Uh… couldn't remember… you wanted," he mutters, hurrying towards the bedroom and disappearing inside. His disembodied voice ebbs and flows from within. "Might grab some… I'll get you to come and…"_

_She can't hear the rest but she shrugs, rising to her feet and gathering the purse that contains very little but Tic-Tacs, ticket stubs and about fifty dollars in cash._

_"You can't leave."_

_Dave is on his feet now, too. He hurries towards the front door, holding his hands out and almost pleading with her._

_"They… my boss told me that you had to stay put."_

_Linka gestures towards Wheeler who has just emerged from the bedroom. "We will be back in a —"_

_"I'm sorry, but I have my orders."_

_Linka glances at Wheeler, bewildered at the furious expression on his face. There's a bag hanging off his shoulder and he strides forward, in no mood for games._

_"Get out of our way," he says through gritted teeth, grabbing Linka's arm and moving to push the analyst aside. Her mouth snaps shut as she falls into step beside him._

_Something is wrong._

_"You can't leave," he says, crossing his arms and glaring back. "Just —"_

_"Try and stop us," Wheeler fumes, gripping the collar of his shirt and staring him down. "Get out of our —"_

_It's at this point that all hell breaks loose._

_The rest happens so fast that Linka barely has time to process it. The analyst reaches for something concealed beneath the waistband of his trousers and Linka yelps as Wheeler shoves her away. She hits the wall hard as Wheeler draws his arm back and lands a hard blow to the side of Dave's head. The analyst stumbles back, clutching his face and bellowing in pain._

_"What are you… what is going on —" Linka gasps, but Dave has recovered enough to launch himself at Wheeler, tackling him to the floor and punching him repeatedly. She shrieks, jumping onto the analyst's back in an effort to drag him away._

_"Get off him!" she screams, hooking one arm around his throat, scratching and clawing with the other. She manages to pull him off and he spins, trying to dislodge her. Linka clings to his neck, tightening her grip in an effort to cut off the circulation to his airways._

_"Bitch," he bellows, coughing, doing his best to throw her to the ground. "Get the fu —"_

_He overbalances, tipping sideways. They both crash to the floor and the breath is knocked painfully from Linka's lungs. Dave's phone bounces across the floor and he pushes her away, scurrying towards it._

_The effort is redundant. Wheeler staggers to his feet and kicks it away, before launching his foot with devastating accuracy. The computer analyst slumps to the floor, unconscious as Wheeler grabs her hand and pulls her up, dragging her out into the hallway._

_"Yankee, what is —"_

_"Move," he hisses. He's bleeding from the mouth and holding his other arm close to his body — favouring his side. His eyes are wild as he scans the hallway for… something. And then he's sprinting, pulling her along as if his life depended on it._

_They head down the corridor. The fire stairs are between them and the elevator, but the familiar 'ping' sound causes him to falter._

_"Yankee, what —"_

_"Shit!"_

_They're running flat-out now. He pivots and practically launches her into the metal access door to the stairs beyond, hiding her from view. She fumbles for a moment with the handle, aware that voices are approaching. Deep, resonating tones. Another voice that causes the bottom to drop out of her stomach._

_Guttural and harsh. That crude, slavic accent that causes her skin to crawl every time she hears it._

_"Go!" Wheeler whispers, an edge of panic in his voice. "Babe, move!"_

_She finds her feet and descends quickly, clutching tightly to his hand, glancing back regularly — fearful that her assailants may be following._

_They pass into the foyer, avoiding the front reception desk where a couple of heavy-set men are lounging in the recliners; their eyes trained on the elevator doors._

_Wheeler slows to a walk and pulls her along in the opposite direction, still swearing under his breath. The apartment complex is connected to a bustling food-court filled with employees on their lunch-break. They cross over into it, side-stepping their way around people lining up for their fried chicken and salads._

_Laughter. The low murmur of people discussing work while eating. Someone pushes their chair out and Linka trips, stumbling but Wheeler hauls her back up again. They finally emerge, spilling out into the street. There's an escalator leading to the underground transit system and he heads towards it, still glancing back every now and then._

_She's shaking, holding tightly to his arm as they make their way down to the subway. There's a train on the platform and they quickly pay for a ticket and dash towards the nearest carriage._

_It's standing room only. Shoulder to shoulder. He leads her through, finding a pole unencumbered by too many others. She slumps against it, catching her breath, feeling Wheeler's hands slide around her waist and gripping the pole propped behind her. He rests his cheek alongside hers._

_"Fuck," he says hoarsely, blue eyes blazing. "Can't fuckin' believe —"_

_"What happened?" she cries. "That was Kroi, wasn't it? How did —"_

_"Yeah." He nods his head, still out of breath. "Bastards were in the lobby. Nearly ran into 'em on my way out."_

_"Did they see you?"_

_"Hell no," he says. The doors close and the carriage lurches. He leans forward, tipping his forehead against her shoulder, still recovering from their close call. "Jesus."_

_They're moving now. Inching further away; not only from the life they once knew, but the life they were supposed to be leading. Heading into unchartered territory._

_They're a blank canvas._

_She buries her face in his neck, inhaling his musky scent; seeking comfort as she peers worriedly over his shoulder. The blur of the lights flash past outside of the windows._

_"What do we do, Yankee?" She's on the verge of tears._

_He shakes his head again. Wheeler seems at a complete loss — a rarity for him._

_"I am so sorry," she whispers. "God, how could this —"_

_"Creep musta' sold you out," he says quietly. He tightens his arms around her, pressing his mouth to her cheek. "Blight probably paid him off."_

_"What do we do?" Panic is rising again. She glances down at her purse, painfully aware of the lack of documentation they now hold. "We have nothing! No powers. No passports. We cannot board a plane. We have no means to gain employment, we lack —"_

_"I'll think of something." He kisses her forehead. "Just —"_

_"Blight is never going to stop, is she?"_

_A seat becomes available and he grips her shoulders, guiding her backwards until her calves bump the fabric. The train clears the underground tunnels and the urban metropolis opens up outside. They have no destination. Nowhere to go. Their future is now even more uncertain than before, courtesy of one man's greed._

_She drops down heavily into the spare seat, burying her face in her hands and dashing tears away in frustration. "This is a mess."_

_The carriage is clearing now. The train is leaving the city, heading out into the densely populated suburbs. Graffiti-laden fencing and sprawling concrete structures._

_The carriage continues onwards for a while. Time becomes irrelevant. Wheeler presses his forehead against the metal, his body swaying with the natural movement of the train as she sobs quietly into her palms._

_She's truly frightened, now._

_The train continues to empty as they leave each platform behind. A tinny voice announces the approaching stops. There's three more to go and she assumes the train will terminate, before returning to the city._

_The seat next to her becomes vacant. She senses Wheeler's weight drop down into it. His hand rests on the back of her neck and she sniffs, leaning into him. Again, so thankful that he's here._

_The thought occurs to her. That alone and defenceless — without Wheeler's intervention — she would have left that apartment in Kroi's custody._

_If she had left at all._

_Wheeler's still quiet. He's staring at the unimpressive scenery passing by, lost in thought. She hugs him tightly, kissing his cheek, and wiping the blood away from his bottom lip. Her hand brushes his chest and he winces, glancing down._

_"Yankee," she breathes, smoothing her hand over his sternum. She leans closer to inspect. "You are hurt?"_

_Dark, sticky blood is pooling over his left pectoral muscle. She prods it lightly and he gasps, wrenching away, grabbing her hand and clutching her fingers to avoid further inspection._

_She removes her scarf, folding it several times, slipping her hand under his shirt and pressing the makeshift bandage tightly against the wound in an attempt to stem the blood._

_"Think I've torn the sutures," he says, grunting in pain as she applies more pressure. "Hospital's outta the question."_

_"What do we do?"_

_"I dunno." He shakes his head. "We'll get off at the next stop. We can —"_

_"This is a mess," she cries, adjusting her hand over his chest as she helps him up. Tears are restricting her vision and she blinks them away as they make their way towards the doors. "I do not… I cannot believe… I am so sorry, Yankee —"_

_"Stop stressin," he says, reassuring her. "It's gonna be fine."_

_"You are injured, we have no phones. No identification. Nowhere to go. Barely any belongings." She gasps in despair, realising that her computer is where she left it, on the kitchen table. It was her only commodity, her only means left of control and now it's gone. "Oh God, my computer. What if we cannot —"_

_She starts to cry again, unable to halt the flow of tears. They track down her cheeks as the hopelessness of the situation settles over her._

_They're on their own._

_The train slows to a stop and he straightens, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. He kisses her tenderly, stroking her cheek with his fingers._

_"One thing at a time," he says. "Lets just find somewhere to lay low. We'll work the rest out from there."_

_"All right."_

_"We'll be fine babe." He drapes his arm across her shoulders as they exit the train. "Have I ever met a situation I couldn't talk my way out of?"_

_"Nyet."_

_She sniffs, clutching him tighter as they wander down the platform. The afternoon sun beats down on them. His hair has turned a fiery bronze in the light. Regardless of their situation, his quiet confidence calms her. Soothes her._

_Wheeler will know what to do. He'll keep her safe — take care of her. He always has, despite her steadfast refusal to admit it._

_She knows she loves him._

_"We'll be fine."_

_"Promise?"_

_"Yep." He pulls her in, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her upturned mouth. "Promise."_

* * *

"Used to get home around seven," Wheeler said, leisurely trailing his fingers up and down her bare back. "Walk in the door and you and Hannah would be gone. Car in the garage, purse sittin' on the counter."

Linka sighed, settling her body closer, feeling the press of the rumpled sleeping bag beneath her breasts and stomach. She folded her arms beneath her chin, tilting her head to the side and watching him, amused at the look of concentration crossing Wheeler's handsome face as he marked lazy patterns across her skin.

"Where did we go?"

"You'd walk three times a week. Take the pram. There was a bike track that weaved through the estate."

"Mmm?"

"You knew everyone — literally every second household would spot you comin' a mile off. Invite you in for a cup of coffee." He grinned suddenly, threading his fingers through her hair; tugging the curls and watching them spring back against the smooth skin of her back. "Twenty minute walk would take you three hours."

"Really?"

"Yeah." His blue eyes looked almost grey in the faded light. She shivered as his fingers swept up her side, over the soft swell of her breast before trailing up her spine. He brushed her hair aside and kissed her shoulder. "Lil' miss social butterfly."

His movements were loving and unhurried. She pressed her cheek into the mattress, enjoying his lightly circling fingers; relaxed and sleepy, blocking out everything but his touch.

So gentle. It was a characteristic at odds with the impulsive streak he portrayed to everyone else — at least in her time.

She smiled, rolling onto her side and wriggling her body forward; snuggling into him as he pulled the sleeping bag around them.

They lay in silence for a while, listening to the slow beat of rain beginning to fall outside. It made a metallic  _thunk_  against the cab as Wheeler wrapped her firmly in his arms; limbs entwined beneath the covers.

The icy tent stopover in Alaska suddenly sprung to mind. It seemed like years ago — almost a distant memory — yet in reality, only a few months had technically passed.  _Her_  Wheeler had waltzed into their tent without a second thought and like always, she'd shot down his advances and maintained her typical haughty disposition.

With the benefit of hindsight, her past behaviour caused a flare of regret. Shame and embarrassment — now that she knew the true depth of their future. She nuzzled his collarbone, feeling one of the bullet entry points against her cheek.

The sun was rising, casting an dull orange glow inside the cabin. Tipping her head back, she inspected the roughened scars closely, tracing the edges with her index finger.

"Do they still hurt?"

"Sometimes. I get some nerve pain every now and then."

She trailed her touch lower, finding a puckered section of skin between his ribs, slightly discoloured over time. Her mind worked to recall the explanation.

"Cigarrette burn?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Lunch break at school." She glanced up at him, the memory coming back to her now as she sought confirmation. "Burnt through your t-shirt?"

"That was the official story."

She frowned, confused — recalling the explanation he gave to Kwame and herself towards the beginning of the Planeteers. She hadn't even questioned it.

"Was there an unofficial story?"

"Yeah, but it's not as pleasant."

She waited expectantly, and he seemed to finally relent.

"My dad came home drunk one night, lookin' for a fight. Decided to use me as an ash tray."

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Wheeler, I —"

"I was asleep at the time… not for long, though. Shoved him away and he punched me back. Grabbed my shit and left. Didn't go back for a week. First time I ever hit the streets."

"I am so sorry..." Linka trailed off, not quite sure what to say.

He shrugged. "Usually only ever got hurt when he was beatin' mom. I'd try to intervene. Cop a smack to the head for the trouble. First time he'd ever laid a hand on me for no reason."

"There is never a reason for that," she said quietly. "Why did you not tell us?"

"You get used to keepin' shit like that to yourself," he said. "Especially where I'm from. Anything to avoid a visit from CPS... or a kick up the ass for blabbin'. Guess it just becomes second nature."

"God, Yankee.."

"Woulda' been about fourteen," he said. "All in the past, though."

"I am so sorry," she murmured smoothing her hand over his chest. "I knew you had a bad home life, but —"

"I'm not like him," he said resolutely. "I'm a good dad."

"I know," she said faintly, and he reached for her, crushing her against him, lips seeking out the hollow of her neck and making her sigh with pleasure.

"Miss you, baby girl."

Linka made a small noise, hooking her leg over his waist and settling herself on top of him. She lowered her face with a knowing smile; pressing her lips firmly to his, taking her time.

A soft sigh escaped her mouth as his hands roamed her body, and she wasn’t at all surprised to find herself wanting him again.

She broke away; breathless and aroused, kissing the corner of his mouth, then nibbling her way down his chest and stomach.

He shifted with a groan; his hand threading through her hair. He tugged gently, staring down at her with a playful frown.

"Oy."

"Mmm?"

"Don't go startin' something you're not plannin' on finishin’," he said. As if to prove his point, Wheeler's hands slipped down, caressing the shapely curve of her behind and hauling her back up his body to eye level again.

" _Nyet_ ," she gasped, giggling as he rolled her roughly onto her side again. 

"Behave yourself, Russki."

She chuckled, and he grunted in response, but his hands remained firmly on her bottom.

"Tell me more," she said, kissing him softly. "What happened after we left together? I remember you telling me about Washington. About Kroi being there. I have some memories. Some things are clear, but others…" She squirmed closer to him, feeling the sharp stubble from his face bristling against her cheek. "Where did we go after that? What did we do?"

"Waited around for our new passports and ID." He stroked her waist absently with his fingers. "Complete fuckin' mess until they arrived."

"What happened?"

"Ugh." He shook his head at the memory. "No ID. Cards were a no-go. Blight was tracking our old identities. We were effectively on the street and movin' around until then. Stayin' in places that would make lousy roach motels look like five star resorts."

She frowned, trying to make sense of it all. "Did we not have access to the money Mishka —"

"Most places require a credit card imprint at check-in, babe. I had cash on me. You'd kept one bank card from a shared account you'd had as a child. Mishka had transferred your inheritance over to it. We knew it'd be flagged. Too risky to use it until we were ready to leave."

"Oh."

"So yeah. No choice but to wait for new documents. A week or so layin' low amongst the DC junkies, drug-dealers and ex-cons. You were freakin' out. Fights in the hallways at all hours of the night. People shootin' up on the stairwell. Nearly got mugged in the lobby grabbin' a bite to eat. Ended up spendin' that night in the park, from memory. I got sick again. Infection after the sutures tore."

"Oh my… what did you do?"

"Hospital wasn't an option. You ended up havin' to go chat up a pharmacist with some bullshit story just to nab some penicillin." He gave her a wry smile. "Fun times."

" _Bozhe moy,_ " she breathed, hugging him tighter. "Obviously everything turned out all right."

"Yeah," he said. "Paperwork finally came. We withdrew your money. Took a little bit of wranglin' without the ID in your birth name, but Mishka was a signatory and must have found a way to approve it from his end. Transferred the cash into travellers cheques. Closed the account. Got the hell outta the States. South to Cancun, first. Able to breathe a little easier, then."

"Cancun," she mused. "You would have enjoyed the beaches there, no doubt."

"Wouldn't know," he admitted. "Didn't see much of Cancun, in all honesty."

She frowned. "Were we still hiding?"

"Nope." He smirked in response, squeezing her ass. "Guess you could say we were hell bent on gettin' to know one another a little better." 

"Oh," she said, understanding the unspoken inference. Her mind recalled their earlier conversation beneath the overpass. "We were not playing UNO?"

"Nah. More like naked Twister, but without the big-ass game-board."

She grinned. "I think I —"

"Horizontal square dancin'," he said, tickling her between the ribs as she squirmed delightedly. "Don't think we even left the room for the first week. Just slept, ordered room service and… well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Then the Bahamas?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Then Greece?"

"Yep."

"And we were married in Santorini?"

"Uh huh."

"Was it planned?"

"Is anything I ever do planned?" Wheeler asked — a cheeky grin on his face. He bit down gently on her shoulder, batting his lashes at her. "Am I not the king of spontaneous action?"

She rolled her eyes. "So long as you did not propose to me again with a ring from a Christmas cracker."

"Nah, that's just poor taste."

"Good."

"It was a ring pull from a beer can."

"Wheeler _,_ " she exclaimed. "Are you joking —"

"Nope. Dead serious."

She lifted herself onto an elbow; clutching the sheets to her chest as she stared down at him. "You are a brave man!"

"Brave or stupid." He shrugged, folding his hands behind his head and winking at her.

She smiled at him fondly, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"We were havin' the best time. Just spendin' our days on the beach. Trawlin' the markets and shops. Massages on the sand. Explorin' the sites. Nights sittin' in the beach-side restaurants eating seafood and drinkin' beer. Watching the world go by."

"Sounds wonderful," she said warmly, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "Tell me how you proposed."

"We'd met a couple of honeymooners from Canada — Adam and Bec. Went out and got horrendously drunk with them one night in Fira. Adam was pullin' out the dance moves. You lost your shoes. I tripped over a pissed-off midget donkey —"

"A donkey?"

"It's Santorini. You know how many of those bastards are hangin' around?" He grinned, shaking his head in wonder. "Wild night."

She giggled, flopping back down beside him — so thrilled to be hearing the details. "What happened then?"

"We lost the others. Ended up on the beach." He grinned, nuzzling her forehead with his nose. "You're flat on your back. Completely tanked. Pretty black dress on. Straps were fallin' down your arms. Doin' starfish patterns in the sand."

She sighed, feeling his fingers trailing up the curve of her neck as he kissed her throat with slow, deliberate motions. She tipped her head back, winding her arms around his neck and holding him to her.

"You looked so adorable. There was an empty beer can nearby. Tore off the ring pull, dragged you into my lap and asked you then and there to be my wife."

"And I accepted this romantic proposal?"

"Yeah. Quite loudly, as I recall."

She giggled again. "And you placed this magnificent trophy on my finger?"

"Had to shove the little bastard on somewhat."

"The ring pull from a can of soft drink." She touched his cheek, amused. "How environmentally friendly of you."

"What can I say, babe?" he said loftily. "It's how I roll."

" _Pridurok_ ," she laughed. "I think that is worse than the Christmas cracker trinkle-thingy."

"Trinket," he corrected. "I'll admit I had the actual ring in my pocket once you'd sobered up. Been holdin' onto it for a while."

"Never a dull moment with you, Yankee," she said fondly. "We were married straight away?"

"Few weeks later," he said. "We needed a little piece of paper that said we were who we said we were."

"Even though we were not?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Some document saying we were free to marry. Took a few weeks to arrive."

"Oh."

"Married you on the beach. You had flowers in your hair," he said, smiling at her. "Knocked you up before we hit Thailand. My bad."

"Any regrets?"

He sighed, running his fingers through her hair again. Kissing her brow, her nose, the corner of her mouth — seeming to think long and hard about the question.

"I regret that I didn't make a move on you sooner."

"Yankee," she said softly. "You never failed to make your feelings known on a —"

"No babe. I didn't." He shook his head, kissing her softly. "I flirted. I propositioned. Threw myself into any situation to get close to you. It never went beyond that. Never told you the truth."

"Oh Yankee, I —"

"So yeah," he said. "The  _what if's_  tend to haunt me."

"Like what?"

"Like maybe if we'd gotten together earlier, this whole thing with MAL may not have happened."

She nodded, tightening her arms around him. "If I go back today — back to my time — I am wondering what will happen to all of you?"

"What do you mean?"

She rubbed her face, giving herself time to gather her thoughts. "I … if I am successful. If I return with Bleak and the bodies… If I change the past, will you all simply cease to exist? Or will this future change? This timeline — will it become re… redactle… reddum…"

"Redundant?"

" _Da_ ," she said. "In all honesty, the possibilities hurt my head."

He pressed his forehead to hers. "We're here, right?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"And the others — your Planeteers — are out there somewhere?"

She nodded, feeling him smile against her temple.

"I'm guessin' your Planeteers have kept goin' all this time. I'm sure we'll continue doin' the same. Besides, you won't have to worry 'bout it anyway."

"But I will still —" she argued, but he cut her off quickly.

"Doubt we're gonna disappear. We'll keep on goin' — just like you."

She nodded, appeased for the moment.

The sound of the rain became louder as she settled herself into the crook of his arm, lulled by his still-wandering fingers tracing over her waist and hip.

"Wheeler?"

"Mmm?"

"What if I don't remember all of this?" she whispered. "If I return?"

He let out a heavy breath, reaching for her hand and threading his fingers through hers. "No use worrying' about it, babe. Whatever happens, you can't change it."

"What if I make the wrong choices again?"

He squeezed her hand. "I guess you'll have to cross that bridge when you come to it."

She nodded; feeling comfortable and sleepy in his warm embrace. "Wheeler —"

He stiffened, holding his hand out in warning. Narrowing his eyes, he gently manoeuvred her onto the mattress and sat up quickly, glancing in the direction of the cabin door. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

A beat passed. "Swore I heard voices."

" _Nyet_ , I did not —"

Linka was interrupted by a light knock on the door. She twisted; glancing in the direction of the soft rapping sound.

"Guys," a small voice said from outside, just audible over the rain. "You in here?"

She breathed a sigh of relief — It was Gi.

"Can you hear me? Are you in here?"

"Got any pizza?" Wheeler called back, and Linka slapped him again, grinning.

"Uh... no."

"We're not here, then."

"I found a camera last night," Gi said; her voice floating through the truck panels.

"Good for you," Wheeler called back, flopping back onto his side and burrowing under the covers. "That's great."

"Wait a minute," Linka called, flustered at her lack of clothes. "I am… ah,  _der'mo_."

Wheeler grunted as Linka clambered over him, searching for her scattered jeans and shirt. She threw them on hastily and leaned forward, pushing the door open.

Gi's face peered up at her from below, clutching a large piece of plastic sheeting over her head. A polaroid camera was hanging from a large strap around her neck and she looked rather pleased with herself.

"Hey," she said, craning her neck and staring at Linka. "Uh… everyone's up and having breakfast, guys."

"You comin'?" Grace was a few steps behind Gi; arms crossed and dressed in an anorak several sizes too large for her. Her eyes also settled on Wheeler's bulky form and a smirk crossed her face.

Linka chose to ignore it.

Gi stepped closer. "There's tea and almond milk, apparently!"

"Got any bacon?" Wheeler's voice was muffled under the blanket.

"No," Gi replied.

"Damn."

She smiled, glancing at Linka. "Bleak found some inflatable stuff to take with you. Couple of holes, but he's patched them."

"You go," Wheeler said, sitting up and searching for his own clothes strewn throughout the cabin. "I'll see ya in a minute."

Linka nodded, grabbing her shoes and climbing down carefully. She dropped to the ground and straightened, stretching her muscles.

"Have a good night, champ?" Gi teased, eyeing Wheeler as he responded under his breath with something mildly offensive. He grinned all the same — raising his middle finger as he pulled the door closed. 

Gi stepped forward, sheltering Linka with her makeshift umbrella and seeming to appraise the tell-tale reddened marks on her neck.

"Looks like you were mauled by a bear."

"Do I?" Linka replied, turning pink.

"Your shirt's inside-out, too." Grace added helpfully. "Just sayin'."

Linka swore quietly, wrapping the cardigan around her body to hide the fabric seams. "It was dark," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"Uh huh." Gi raised her eyebrows, grinning widely. "Why am I feeling a sudden case of deja vu?"

"We talked," Linka said, refusing to meet Gi's gaze. "We… I, uh… we may have —"

"God, you guys are hopeless," Gi said, laughing. "Can't help yourselves, can you?"

Linka shrugged, lurching somewhat as Grace threw an arm around her and dragged her away; Gi's giggles still ringing behind her.

The trio stumbled towards the compound, stomachs grumbling and hopes high.

* * *

"No, no, no," Gi laughed, clutching her tea in her hands. "The funniest time was when Ma-Ti hid dead fish behind the dashboard of Greedly's BMW."

A chorus of laughter followed. Linka sat tucked within Wheeler's arm, watching the hub of activity around her. She drew her knees up to her chest, making way for a trolley full of goods that was currently being wheeled past.

Kwame shook his head. "Linka changing Plunder's DMV records to… ah, what was it?" He clicked his fingers at Wheeler.

"Heywood Jeblowme," Wheeler said.

Grace snorted into her coffee cup. "Are you serious?"

"I dared Lin to amend his details."

"Was that you?" Bleak's voice resonated loudly as he entered the galley, hoisting himself up onto the counter and eyeing them with derision. "Boss wracked his brains for months tryin' to figure that out."

Linka laughed, leaning into Wheeler and dropping her head against his shoulder. "I changed it back… after a while."

"Jesus," Bleak muttered. "Got any coffee amongst all the shit 'ere?"

"Only tea," Grace replied. "You want some?"

"Tea's for pussies."

"Did your mother drop you on your head as a child?" Grace politely enquired, and this time it was Wheeler's turn to snort loudly. "Starved for affection?"

Bleak glared openly at Grace but she simply continued sipping from her chipped mug, her round face the picture of innocence.

"I remember when Ma-Ti went on his first date," Kwame said, leaning back and clasping his hands in his lap. He regarded his friends fondly. "Wheeler and Gi spent so much time trying to 'prepare' him that —"

"God," Ma-Ti said, rolling his eyes. "I had forgotten about that. You two overwhelmed me with so much conflicting information that I had a panic attack in the carpark. Barely made it through the night."

"I'm surprised you were not scarred for life," Kwame said.

"Nothin' wrong with my advice," Wheeler said, leaning forward and causing Linka to slop tea all over her lap. "I knew how to get the ladies —"

A chorus of loud groans followed, despite Wheeler's protestations.

"Yeah," Gi said. "Getting ladies was never a problem — you were never interested in keeping any of them."

"Kept the only one that mattered," he replied. He kissed the top of Linka's head and winked at Gi and Grace. "I hear you two are comin' back with me?"

"If that's all right?" Gi said. "Don't wanna cramp your style."

Wheeler shrugged. "Got a sweatshop down in the basement. Need the cheap labor."

"Wheeler!" Linka hissed, elbowing him in the ribs as the girls giggled. " _Bozhe moy._ "

"We need a photo," Gi said suddenly, jumping to her feet and clutching the camera still hanging from her neck. "Time to make new memories."

"That thing even work?" Grace said. "Any film in —"

"No idea," she said, jumping forward and grabbing Kwame by the shirt, hauling him to his feet. Kwame was pushed in Wheeler and Linka's direction, grumbling under his breath. Gi snapped her fingers at Ma-Ti. "Up!"

Wheeler stood, offering Linka his hand and pulling her to her feet. She ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to make herself look more presentable as the others crowded around them.

Linka gestured towards Grace. "Come!"

"Oh, I don't need to —" she began but Gi shooed her over as well. "Fine. What about Grumpy?" she said, nodding at Bleak.

"What do I look like, a fuckin —"

"Oh, get your bald, ugly head over here," Grace snapped, grabbing Bleak and dragging him over.

A few others joined in, and Linka was jostled about amongst the animated crowd. She instinctively moved closer to Wheeler, slipping an arm around his waist as Kwame called Tyreece over to join them. Gi handed the camera to a small slip of a girl with a jagged hair cut before hurrying towards Grace.

"Make it count."

The girl raised an eyebrow, staring down at the camera. "Does it even —"

"No idea."

The girl shrugged, raising the polaroid to eye level and directing the rowdy subjects to stand closer together.

The original five had now swelled to about fifteen. Linka held her breath as someone bumped into her. Wheeler slipped an arm around her shoulders to steady her. She hugged him back, peering at Bleak who stood stiffly off to the side; arms crossed and looking distinctly annoyed at the proceedings.

"Duck down at the front," the girl said, before glaring at someone behind Kwame. "Adam, I can't see —"

"Dude," Grace moaned. "It's a photo, not a Vogue magazine shoot."

"Move in!"

"Press the damn button," Wheeler muttered, earning a slap to the back of the head from Gi. He retaliated with a well-aimed side-flick to her backside with the heel of his boot, causing them all to surge forward. Kwame's half-hearted complaints were just audible as Ma-Ti chuckled from somewhere nearby.

Linka grinned, delighted to witness those small reminders of where she had come from. Echoes of home that had been sorely missed. The banter. The affection and friendship that she had come to take for granted.

The seeds had been sown here, though. The roots were forming once again, destined to bloom bright and it was a joy to behold.

"That'd better not be your hand on my ass, Ma-Ti," Wheeler said under his breath, eliciting more laughter. Linka tipped her head back, grinning at Wheeler as the electronic click sounded.

"All right," the girl said, collecting the resulting images and handing them to Gi. "Only got two. Think it's jammed."

Gi frowned, flapping the images in the air and heading towards Linka as the crowd slowly dispersed. She blew gently on the film, holding the pictures out for inspection. "Hey, that's a good shot!"

Linka looked them over with interest. The colours were a tad faded, perhaps due to the length of time stored away without use.

"Only two?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling shyly at Linka. "Needed to replace my last team shot."

Linka glanced at Wheeler. "Do you want the other?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Do you?"

"I thought you might wish to hold onto it," she said, biting her tongue and regretting her words — because this inconspicuous piece of glossy paper was yet another way of holding onto his past. Of holding onto  _her._ Of not letting go, destined to remain buried within his box of memories.

It wasn't what she wanted for him.

Gi waited expectantly, unsure of how to proceed. She shrugged, handing the photo to Wheeler before wandering away. He clutched it loosely between his fingers, flicking the edge until the corner folded over like a dog ear.

"Do not hold onto me," she whispered, rising onto her toes and kissing him softly. She cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb over the patchwork of red-tinged stubble. "You deserve more. I want you to be happy."

He nodded. "Miss you, baby girl," he whispered, wrapping her up in a fierce bear hug and lifting her off the ground. "Love you to the moon and back. Always have."

"I love you too," she said; her feet swinging idly as she squeezed him back.

He kissed her, nuzzling her nose and glancing over her shoulder. "Still a pain in my ass, g —"

His body tensed and she felt his fingers clamp down almost painfully. She blinked up at him questioningly but his attention was diverted.

"Wheeler?" She touched his face, concerned now. "What —"

"SHUT UP!" Tyreece's voice cut through the room sharp as a whip-crack and a nervous silence descended.

Everyone stood rooted to the spot, unsure of how to proceed. All eyes were on the doorway as a young man staggered into the galley, covered in blood and clutching his stomach. Tyreece and Kwame lurched forward, grabbing him before he collapsed to the floor.

"What happened?"

Linka clapped a hand to her mouth. Her view was obscured but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Several moments passed. She watched Kwame raise his head, eyes scanning the room for... something. He finally settled his gaze on her; regarding Linka with concern.

The injured man was carried away as Kwame gave urgent instructions to Tyreece. She watched Tyreece nod, before clapping his hands and shouting directions, ushering everyone out.

Kwame hurried over to them. "Kroi is out. Blight and Lambert are dead."

"What?" Linka's face went pale. "How —"

"No idea," Kwame said, rubbing his face as Gi and Ma-Ti approached. "We think Kroi murdered the other two, and hid until someone came in and found them. Waited for the gate to be…" He sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "You can probably guess the rest."

"Jesus," Wheeler muttered. "Just what we —"

"What now?" Gi asked.

"Tyreece is moving everyone out to search for him. He's ordering them to steer clear of the lab." Kwame gave Linka a small smile, reaching forward and touching her cheek. "It is time to go, my friend. We cannot risk him finding you, or using or damaging the portal equipment."

Linka nodded; her chest tight as she allowed Wheeler and Gi to pull her onwards through the compound.

She took a deep breath, watching Bleak overtake them. The inner tube from a tyre was clutched in his hand, ready for their presumed decent into water. It bumped and bobbled against the wall as he squeezed past, peppering Kwame with more questions.

Nerves had set in. Fear of the unknown but she steeled herself, pushing her fears aside. Determined to see this through.

They were going home.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is rated for violent content and death.

"Is it plugged in?"

Kwame stood behind Linka, staring over her shoulder as she hurriedly connected the cords and cables into the monitors and laptop. She scratched her head, eyeing the power outlet on the wall.

"In all honesty, I do not even know if we will require conventional power outlets. Gaia's instructions were a little vague."

"That big white one plugged into the computer," Bleak said, pointing to a long, thick piece of wiring dangling from the ceiling. "I remember. Blight nearly tore my hide. Came close to neckin' myself on it."

"Pity you failed," Wheeler muttered under his breath.

Bleak glared back at him. "Har-dee fuckin' ha ha, turd-burger."

”Screw you —“

Linka ignored them. She blew her hair away from her face, checking the ethernet cables and rummaging through Blight's box of computer paraphernalia.

"Is this even going to work?"

She sighed, glancing at Ma-Ti. "I am hopeful regarding the portal. What worries me is getting your power back on."

"How so?

"I can backtrack Blight's flies to locate keystrokes and commands. Isolate corrupted data — but I may require access to DNS servers for anything else. IP addresses and such, in order to hack into the local power grid." She straightened, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and surveying the confused faces. "The internet. I cannot access something that may no longer exist."

"Surely there would be some remnant of —"

"Perhaps the satellites are still functional," she said, glancing up. "I do not know, Kwame. But I will do my best."

Kwame nodded. He poked his head out of the double doors, conversing with someone on the other side — Tyreece, she presumed.

"Any sign of Kroi?" Gi asked.

Kwame shook his head, beckoning to Wheeler and Ma-Ti — needing help to barricade the door for the duration of the team beam. "No," he grunted, pushing a cabinet over. "There is a blood trail leading out into the desert. We have a team tracking him."

"You gettin' anything?" Wheeler asked Ma-Ti.

"I can sense him, but I cannot pinpoint a location." Ma-Ti shook his head. "Rage. Fury. I think the man has officially lost his marbles."

"Lost 'em years ago," Wheeler muttered. "Psychopathic piece of sh —"

"All right," Linka said. "I think… I hope it is done. Are you ready for this, Grace?"

"No," she muttered, rubbing her ring with her finger. "Really throwin' me in the deep end, here."

"It will be fine," Linka said, smiling at the nervous girl. Kwame had made the decision to have the five original rings in order to create the power surge, leaving Linka's own past ring unencumbered for the journey home. It was just a theory, but this meant that Grace was an unwilling participant. "Just point and say the word."

"Uh huh."

"Last team beam, my friends," Kwame said.

"Heard that before," Wheeler said, eliciting nervous laughter.

"All right," Kwame said, clapping Wheeler on the back. "You have me there. Hope Island's coordinates are —"

"Still burnt into our memories," Gi said quietly.

"— needed for Linka's journey home," Kwame continued, pointing at the displacement manifold hanging from the ceiling. "We are aiming there?"

She nodded.

"Okay," he said, eyeing Linka worriedly. "All right."

He stood for a moment, seemingly apprehensive. All eyes were on Kwame as he finally looked up, giving everyone a tight smile.

"Lets do this. Earth!"

"Fire."

"Wind — oh, holy hell!" Grace gasped, flinching away from the resulting beam. "Is that meant to —"

"Water!" Gi said, unable to keep a straight face.

"Heart."

The beams converged into one, making a sharp, continuous cracking sound. Sparks went flying in all directions but they held firm, watching the pulses of pure energy radiate in waves towards the equipment.

"Jesus!" Wheeler threw his head to the side to avoid the embers. "Bout to lose my eyebrows here, people."

The combined beam continued sparking and Linka watched on in shock, staring at the peculiar, jerky movements made by the trail of energy. She raised her arms, noting the fine hairs standing on end. The static electricity in the room was palpable.

Right on cue, Wheeler reached out with his free hand, poking Grace in the arm, and she gave an almighty yelp as she was zapped by the current.

"Quit it!" she cried, ignoring Wheeler's wide grin. "Jesus!"

"Is this meant to happen?" Bleak yelled over the noise. "Is something meant to —"

"I have some movement here," Kwame said. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He gripped his wrist in an attempt to hold his ring-hand steady. "I am finding it difficult to —"

White light seemed to radiate; pushing forth from the rings. Spiralling up the beam and surrounding the equipment — almost seeming to emanate from it.

"Should we —"

A massive bang sounded, followed by a shockwave. The ground shook and they all hit the ground, inadvertently breaking off their powers. Linka clutched the side of the work surface, ducking low, breathless and not knowing what to expect.

"Was that it?"

The smell of smoke remained in the air. The Planeteers looked around — searching for some sign that they had been successful.

"Did we do it?"

Kwame stumbled to his feet. He raised his hands in confusion. "I do not know, I —"

"There's no change to the portal. I can't —" Gi said, glancing around and spotting Grace tucked face-first between two crates on the other side of the room. "Dude, how'd you get over there so fast?"

"It failed?" Bleak stood with his hands on his hips, looking beyond devastated. "After all this fucking build-up and —"

"Wait," Linka whispered. She dropped into the swivel chair and pursed her lips, reaching out and touching the blinking green light on the side of the computer. "Oh!"

"Did it —"

"We have power!"

She pressed a button and the home screen lit up immediately — desktop icons springing forth one by one.

_"Blestyashchiy!"_

She grinned; delighted upon realising that the computer must have been in sleep mode when the power went. Aware that she was already past the first hurdle — not knowing Blight's password.

"I am already in," she said, cracking her knuckles as the others gathered around her. She held her hands above the keypad in anticipation, watching the screen flicker. "All right. I will search through the command history first. Locate and open the portal files. Have the portal ready to go before I attempt restoring the power."

"Do you know what you are looking for?" Ma Ti asked. "The portal files?"

"I have no idea," she replied; her attention never wavering from the screen as she scanned through the hundreds of prompts filling the monitor. "I guess I will know it when I see it."

She spent a few minutes going through Blight's lines of keystrokes and commands. Lips moving — mouthing the lines of coding as her friends shifted impatiently behind her.

The monitor flickered. She held her breath, leaning back as the keypad sparked beneath her fingers.

" _Chert voz'mi_ ," she whispered, hands trembling.

"That ain't good," Wheeler muttered.

She shook her head, continuing to scroll through; stopping the search and passing her finger over the dusty screen.

"Here," she said.

Kwame leaned in, studying the small, white print. "Do you think that might be —"

"The last command in this thread contains an executable file named "Einstein-Rosen," she said. "I am going on a hunch."

"Einstein?" Wheeler said, frowning. "Dead old dude with the crazy hair?"

"Yes," she said. She scrolled to the top of the thread, selecting the first command in the chain and double-clicking. "Einstein-Rosen Bridge."

"Wormhole," Grace whispered from somewhere behind her.

Linka nodded; her eyes focused on a dialogue box that appeared, divided into three sections. The first two were easy to distinguish — sequences of numbers that were broken up by dots.

"Longitude and latitude coordinates?" Ma-Ti asked, pointing at the screen. "Perhaps the origin and destination?"

"Must be," she said, hovering the mouse over the destination tab and clicking. Her eyes widened as a list of previously-entered coordinates popped up. "At least we know where Blight was trying to test the technology."

"Busy girl," Grace commented drily.

The third box contained a crude world map, along with several vertical columns beneath — all unmoving. At the base were bars; annotated with symbols and algorithms that Linka couldn't decipher.

"All right," she said. "The previous test runs are listed here. There do not appear to be any other possible paths for us to take."

"You don't think we'll end up in a completely different timeline?" Bleak seemed worried.

" _Nyet_ ," Linka said. "I think only one split has resulted. That was the impression Gaia gave me. All of Blight's experimentation in my timeline created a direct path to here, so —"

"You were told to reverse the polarity, remember."

"Oh!" Linka's hands paused above the keyboard as another power surge struck the computer. The keyboard glowed as a spark issued from the top left — close to the shift key. "Oh, I think I need to hurry this up."

"Try 'file'," Gi said, and Linka moved the mouse towards the menu bar. "Maybe it's —"

"Found it," she said, selecting the tab and clicking once. "All right."

She minimised the program and returned to the DOS interface, scrolling through the commands. Scanning the prompt screen for a sign of any executable files that would have been caused by the CIA virus. Searching for a sign of intervention from MAL's programming.

"Do not worry about the power, Linka," Kwame said. "It is more important that you —"

"Wait," she said, blinking rapidly as the commands continued descending. "I am nearly at the approximate time period that MAL would —"

"I am more worried about getting you —"

"Here," she said, pausing the stream and highlighting the coding. She leaned forward, staring hard at her apparent handiwork. "Oh, what a mess."

"Virus?"

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she breathed, staring at the damage. "Goodness. I outdid myself."

"That was never your work, babe." She felt Wheeler's hand settle on her shoulder, and she squeezed it gently. "CIA fuckers modified it."

She nodded. "All right. I am tracking the path of the infection. If I can isolate MAL's responses —"

She flinched, turning and staring at the door. Shouts and loud bangs could be heard beyond the lab doors.

"Think we got company, people," Wheeler said, glancing in the direction of the noise. "You think it's Kroi?"

"More than one," Grace said, glancing back worriedly. "Sounds more like a raid."

"Linka, you need to go," Kwame said. "We must already be approaching —"

"Just wait," she said, pointing at the monitor. "This is the point! This is where MAL's programming took over. I can see the protocols! If I can re-route the —"

"Hurry up," Gi whispered. "Something's going on out there."

"Patience," she replied, tapping away furiously.

"Not today."

Her fingers worked furiously on the keyboard for several moment while the others paced nervously behind her.

"All right," she said, swinging around to face Kwame. "I have isolated what I can. Quarantined MAL's protocols. It is all I can do in the time I have. You may need to head to the local power supply station and reset the switches. I cannot guarantee it will work, but I have done my best."

"Thank you, my friend." Kwame squeezed her shoulder. "Now let us get you home."

She nodded, maximising the portal software and pressing the destination tab. Another surge from above and the monitor glowed so bright that Linka had to shield her eyes. Another spark; this time near the return key. The faint smell of smoke again.

"It is becoming unstable," she said, opening the dialogue box. "Are the bodies —"

"Ready," Bleak said.

"Let's do this," she said, typing Hope Island's coordinates into the window. "All right, I —"

She stopped suddenly, the words trailing away as she squinted hard at the screen.

The dialogue box remained blank.

She tried again, typing the coordinates into the box; double-clicking and repeating the same step. Watching as the cursor flashed at regular intervals — but no numbers appeared. Linka's shoulders slumped in defeat as she realised the problem.

"The keyboard has short-circuited," she whispered.

"What?" Ma-Ti leaned over, trying for himself. "It was just working!"

"Not anymore."

"Any shortcuts?"

"The onscreen keyboard should…" she said, negotiating the start menu and doing her best to ignore the flickering screen. She lowered her hands in defeat when faced with the "file not found" error. " _Dyermo!_ "

"Is it —"

"I have no keyboard function."

"Great," Wheeler said, throwing his hands in the air. "Bet Gaia didn't see that comin'."

"There goes our water landing," Bleak muttered, kicking aside the tyre tube. "Just fuckin' —"

"I still have USB function — I have the mouse. For how long, I do not know."

"The drop-down menu," Kwame said, pointing at the destination. "Where else has Blight attempted to visit?"

They crowded around the small table, watching nervously as Linka hovered over the first set of coordinates.

"Look," Gi said, pointing at the map as a small dot appeared. "That'll be desert."

Linka tried the next set, flinching again as the monitor glowed a little to bright for comfort.

"Uganda? Maybe Rwanda or Congo," Kwame said as the next dot marked the rough coordinates. "So far, our choices are underwhelming."

"That one pops up a few times," Gi said, pointing at the screen. "See?"

"South America," Ma-Ti said. "Maybe Brazil?"

"Plunder has a factory in San Jose," Bleak said. "Textiles. Off the books, it's where he mainly operates from. Babs was developing the technology for him — might have been tryin' to —"

"It might be your best chance —" Kwame started.

Wheeler quickly shut him down. "Yeah, because droppin' Linka in the center of Plunder territory seems like a terrific idea," Wheeler spat. "No fuckin' way."

"You got a better idea?" Bleak shot back.

"How the hell do we know you're —"

"I'm not gonna stab her in the back, kid! You can —"

"Memory loss, genius!" Wheeler shouted back. "You're not even gonna remember we had this conversation!"

"Just chill out, I'm —"

Wheeler groaned, storming away and kicking an empty wine bottle across the floor. He disappeared behind some metal shelves as Gi hurried after him in an effort to calm him down. Linka bit her lip, glancing at Kwame for reassurance.

"I do not have a choice," Linka murmured. "You had all better clear the lab."

More shouts from outside. The monitor flickered again, and Kwame nodded. She stood, stepping away from the computer; wrapping her arms around Kwame and hugging him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, touching his scarred face. "For everything."

"Be safe, my friend," he replied, pressing his forehead to hers. "We miss you more than you will ever know."

Linka nodded; a lump forming in her throat as Ma-Ti approached her. She gave him a watery smile, wiping away more tears as he embraced her quickly, knowing they were on borrowed time now. "Goodbye, Linka," he said, his voice husky. He touched her cheek. "Take care of yourself. Good luck."

"Thank you," she whispered back, glancing at Bleak who was now dragging Past Blight and Past Kroi's bagged remains towards the lowered section of the floor — where she hoped the portal would open in a few moments from now.

Gi came to her next.

"Love you, Lin," she murmured, hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to Linka's cheek as they rocked back and forth together. "I miss you so much."

"I love you, too." Tears were falling now. Linka couldn't stop them; gazing upwards in an effort to blink them away. "Take care of yourself, Gi."

"Yeah," she whispered, wiping her face with the back of her hand and walking into Ma-Ti's waiting arms.

Linka smiled as Grace approached; taking her outstretched hand. "Lovely to meet you — this version of you, anyway."

"I will be sure to keep an eye out for you if I make it home."

Grace threw a grin over her shoulder, raising her fist and thumping Bleak on the back. "Bye, dickhead."

"Fuck you, Freckles," he replied without missing a beat.

Wheeler stood quietly by a glass cabinet with his hands in his pockets. In three strides he was there; gathering her up in his arms and holding her tightly. Her feet swung idly as she hugged him back. He dropped her down gently, and she rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she composed herself.

"I am so proud of you," she mumbled against his shirt. "So very proud."

He nodded. "You'd better go, babe. That thing's not stable."

"I love you," she whispered, squeezing him tightly. "Do not hold on to me, Yankee."

"Love you, too," he said, tilting her chin up and kissing her softly. "If the CIA call — tell 'em to fuck off."

She smiled against his cheek. "I will."

He lent back, nuzzling her nose and kissing her again before turning away abruptly, striding past Bleak and almost seeming to purposely knock against him. "Do the right thing,  _Argos_ ," he said blithely.

"Yeah yeah," Bleak threw back, following him towards the lab entrance. "Good riddance to the lot of ya."

Linka watched her future Planeteer's file out. She waved as Wheeler threw a last glance over his shoulder. Kwame's hand pressed firm against Wheeler's back as he guided him out. The doors closed behind them — and then they were gone.

"Let's get this over with," Bleak said, pushing the cabinet back against the doors. "Push the damn button."

Linka let out a heavy breath; leaning over and pressing the 'execute' button. The machine fired up and the portal exploded to life. The roar of the machinery was overwhelming; the force just as impressive as the first time.

"Grab a body," Bleak yelled, pointing at the macabre packages. Linka hurried forward, gripping the edges of the smaller bag and hauling the cargo into her arms.

"She is heavier than I thought," she yelled, needing to be heard above the din.

"Goin' in together, remember?" Bleak bellowed back. "Watch out for debris."

"What?"

"Debris!" he hollered just as a metal plate connected with the side of his head. "Ah, fuck!"

He shuffled past her, muttering under his breath. A loud scraping noise issued from the basin area and Linka straightened, searching for the origin. Creaks and groans were just audible above the wild circulating forces converging within the room. The sound was gone as quickly as it came and she sighed, gathering Blight's body again and dragging it backwards.

"What are we —" she started, glancing over her shoulder. She froze, dropping her heavy cargo in shock.

Bleak stood stiffly, his face a mask of pain; hands clutching his abdomen and a red stain spreading against the stark white of his t shirt.

A knife handle protruded from his gut.

Bleak staggered towards her, dropping to his knees and slumping to the floor.

There was no mistaking the figure standing hunched behind him.

Andrei Kroi now stood between her and the portal; a sweaty, bloodied mass. There was no light in his eyes. No empathy, or compassion. A murderous glint. He tilted his head, scrutinising her. Studying her intently; as if she were an insect under a microscope.

With the benefit of hindsight, Linka realised Kroi had been here all along — probably tucked away inside one of the metal storage cabinets, or hidden within shelving.

Kroi advanced on her and Linka took a step back, eyeing the portal glistening behind Kroi, knowing she couldn't return without the original four time travellers. She also couldn't risk Kroi following her through and causing havoc in her original timeline.

The blood drained from her face as she glanced at the barricaded door; then back to Bleak's lifeless body.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Kroi bent low and charged; bellowing at the top of his lungs. Unprepared for the attack, she screamed as he crash-tackled her through a glass display cabinet. Shards flew in all directions and she shrieked in pain, skidding across the floor and bouncing violently off the far wall.

"Wind!" she croaked; raising her fist as he came at her again.

Nothing.

She scurried away, sobbing; feeling the glass cutting her hands as she scrambled to her feet. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth but the sight of Bleak's lifeless body took over all other conscious thought. She stumbled forward, tripping over in a blind panic; glass splintering beneath her palms as she screamed Bleak's name.

A hand closed over her ankle and she wrenched away; kicking out desperately.

"Bleak!" she cried; desperately trying to reach his still body.

Kroi lashed out at her again, grabbing hold of her shoes in an attempt to drag her back. She kicked her way free from the sneakers; on her hands and knees again, dragging herself bare foot through the debris. She cried out in terror as he threw himself over the back of her legs; crushing her against the floor.

"Bastard!" she screamed as he grabbed her hair; dragging her to her knees and slamming her down onto her back. His hands closed over her throat and fear turned to blind terror as she thrashed violently, fighting him with all that she had; clawing at his hands and wrists in a desperate effort to relieve the pressure.

"STUPID BITCH!"

"Get off me," she choked. "Bastard! I hate you! I hate —"

He shouted back in a steady stream of Russian, his face bright red — spit issuing from his mouth as he bore down on her.

He tightened his grip; his face a mask of fury. The lab blurred as her air supply dwindled and she released his wrists, punching and scratching at his face. Gouging his eyes as she gasped for breath; her legs and arms jerking helplessly. She dropped her hand, fumbling around for something to use — anything. Her fingers closed over a shard of glass and she clutched it tightly; feeling the edges pierce her skin.

"Bastard!" she screamed again. She lashed out, swinging her fist and slicing him across the face before wrenching away from him. Dragging herself towards Bleak again, she coughed and gasped for breath, crying as she gulped precious air down into her lungs.

A bellow sounded from behind her and she cried out in terror, adrenaline surging; desperate to reach her prone travelling partner.

Bleak wasn't in the same position as before. He was now curled up in a foetal position on his side. One arm was clutched against his stomach; the other gripped the knife handle, his hand outstretched — a silent offering.

The blade skittered towards her and she lunged for it with both hands.

"Stupid girl," Kroi's voice bellowed, his words heavily accented. Linka's fingers closed over the knife as Kroi grabbed Linka around the waist. He dragged her kicking and screaming to her feet, slamming her against the wall with enough force to disorientate her. Stars burst forth as sweaty hands closed around her neck once again. "Kill you all! You and your stupid friends! You thought you could escape me?"

"I did," she gasped as he lifted her off the ground, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of her throat.

"You think the little ones are safe?"

He smirked, loosening his grip and wrenching her head to the side, exposing her throat. He leaned forward and she felt his breath; hot and wet against her skin, almost intimate in a repulsive way.

"They will feel the end of my blade, you —"

With an almighty roar, Linka swung her fist and plunged the blade into her attacker's neck. She staggered away, still eyeing him in terror. Exhausted, she tripped and stumbled, landing on her ass amongst the debris.

Kroi blundered towards her, a look of pain and disbelief on his face. He lurched forward, and she scurried further back on her hands and feet through the broken glass, backing herself up against the wall.

Kroi finally sunk to his knees, pulling the knife from his neck — a look of utter bewilderment on his face. After several moments he finally slumped over.

Trembling in shock, Linka gave an anguished howl; barely heard above the roar of the machine. A small fire had started — the ceiling above the portal had flames dancing around the metal lip. She glanced down, realising she still had the knife gripped tightly in her hands. Tossing it aside, she limped onwards; her bare feet cut to pieces and leaving a bloody trail in her wake

"Get up, Bleak," she screamed, grabbing him under the arm and trying to lift him. "Get up!"

Her hands were slippery with blood. She lost her hold and he fell back to the floor again. The whirlwind inside was increasing; sparks issuing from the portal equipment. The noise was horrific. The room was filling with smoke.

"GET UP!" she bellowed, taking his arm again and hauling him to his feet. It took several attempts to get a secure hold on him. "NOW!"

He swayed, doubled over. Blood was pooling in the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide and unfocused — no doubt going into shock.

"MOVE!" she shrieked, and they lunged forward. More glass crunched under her bare feet and she gritted her teeth, grabbing Past Blight's body with her free hand and dragging it along the floor, dodging the missiles barrelling past at high speed. "GO!"

The shimmering silver mass beckoned. She gasped as Bleak reached for Past Kroi's body, hauling it along beside him. He grabbed Linka around the waist and she turned, trying to speak, her hair whipping around her face. The portal roar was now a high-pitched, frenzied wail that assaulted her ears.

Tightening her grip on Blight's body, she screamed as the last of Bleak's adrenaline seemed to wear off. He collapsed at the edge of the portal — dragging her downwards and pulling her into the rippling silver pit beyond.

* * *

_Reaching across for the small pile of mail, she leafs through the letters until a small white envelope catches her attention. She holds her breath, noting the familiar small, neat handwriting on the front - with no forwarding address on the back._

_She slides her thumb under the seal, tearing the envelope open before unfolding the letter contained within. Reading the first few lines, her eyes widen. She grins happily. Delighted at the unexpected correspondence._

_Rising quickly to her feet, she starts making preparations: gathering nappies, bottles, drink bottles and other miscellaneous items deemed necessary for the short trip into town. They're quickly tossed into a back-pack as she glances at her watch, checking that she has enough time._

_She does._

_Jackets are grabbed for the kids and tucked into the base of the pram. She reaches for her cell phone purely out of habit, frowning as she realises that the network is still down. Her husband will remain unreachable anyway. She returns it to the bench-top and scrawls a quick note, just in case he returns home early._

_"Hannah, let's go!"_

_The little girl blinks, standing as her mother gently places Eli into the pram. Dropping the back pack over the handles, she ushers the children out into the hallway and towards the lift, chatting softly to her young charges._

_It's colder than she thought. Grabbing Hannah's coat, she dresses her wriggling octopus of a daughter before stepping out of the foyer. They turn right, walking at a steady pace. Hannah skips along beside her, dragging her much-loved, tattered monkey through the slush coating the sidewalk._

_"Hold him higher, moya lyubov," she says, slowing and waiting to cross the road. "Cheburashka is going to get dirty."_

_They walk for around fifteen minutes. She sighs, looking around. It's been an unseasonably wet spring. England is so cold and grey. She misses Auckland very much. It's been harder to form friendships here. Harder to make connections. Everyone tends to keep to themselves, at least where they live._

_The frustration bubbles away. The despair and anger at having to uproot their little family to the UK. They'd been so happy in New Zealand. So careful. Perhaps it was Sicily, a trail left behind that they hadn't been aware of._

_But they'd taken the risk and she had no regrets. It had been so wonderful to see everyone again._

_Her husband hates it here. He doesn't complain, he works so hard to support them. He's a breath of fresh air — her loneliness and self-pity dissipate as soon as he walks in the door. He's amazing. They have a good life. A comfortable life. It's a life full of laughter and affection and love._

_He wants another baby. She laughs every time he brings it up; teasing that it's the baby-making process that appeals to him more. Inviting him to suffer through the heartburn, swelling and morning sickness, not to mention the labor itself._

_But secretly, the idea of another child pleases her._

_Eli is trying to pull himself up. She pauses and adjusts the pram, allowing him to sit upright. He grips the sides and she coos to him, talking softly. Making faces at him._

_The town square looms. There's a post office, general store, butcher and florist. A small cafe is located nearby. The outdoor settings are vacant. Everyone is inside near the fire._

_She pulls her coat around her, pushing the pram towards the center of the square. A large fountain sits in the middle; discolored with age. She applies the pram brake and sits down on a timber seat, ushering Hannah over and placing a beanie on her head._

_"Do not go past the garden," she warns, and the little girl nods, skipping off and heading for the tulips. She smiles, crossing her legs and settling back. Watching Hannah play._

_Her eyes scan the square. It's just after midday. She taps her foot nervously, sitting straighter, unable to contain her excitement. Not sure whether to laugh or bawl at the thought of seeing Gi again._

_It's been nearly four years. Sometimes it feels like a piece of her heart has been ripped out. Time hasn't made things any easier._

_The minutes tick away. She glances up as light raindrops begin to descend, cursing the fact she didn't bring an umbrella._

_Eli is babbling away in the pram and she leans forward, tickling him. Extending the cover to keep him protected from the elements, she smooths her hand across his fine fuzz of red hair. Ten months old and already such a big personality._

_"Mommy!" Hannah's doing cartwheels across the grass. "Mommy, look at me!"_

_She applauds, watching Hannah's thick blonde hair flying in all directions. Navy blue coat, white stockings and pink boots with flowers, chosen herself from the local Marks and Spencer. Her daughter tends to be fussy with her clothes. Headstrong and sometimes a little too confident, but sweet natured all the same._

_Her malyshka is going to be a heartbreaker._

_A flash of lightning strikes in the distance. She looks around, still searching for that beloved face. That crooked grin and the kind, compassionate eyes. Imagining Gi bouncing towards her. Arms outstretched._

_She finds herself welling up and she wipes her face on the back of her coat sleeve, taking a deep breath. The anticipation is taking a toll on her._

_She sits for another twenty minutes. As the time window passes, she gazes down at her hands. The disappointment is crushing._

_Gi is not coming._

_She sits for a moment, contemplating her next move. Feeling foolish — and a tad uneasy._

_"Hannah," she calls, beckoning her daughter over. "We are going."_

_The rain becomes heavier. The cafe door jingles as an older couple step out, raising their umbrellas and heading across the square._

_She wipes away more tears, cursing herself for getting her hopes up._

_"We only just got here," Hannah grumbles as she returns. "Can we —"_

_"We are heading home," she says, rising to her feet. She spins the pram around, dodging a group of teenagers talking loudly — probably on their lunch break from school. "We will come back to the cafe tomorrow."_

_"Can I have a hot chocolate?"_

_"Yes," she replies, flicking Hannah's nose affectionately. "With whipped cream too."_

_Umbrellas everywhere. The rain is getting heavier. She hurries away, gesturing for Hannah to move faster. Trying to reach shelter._

_"Will Daddy be home soon?"_

_"Soon," she says, distracted. "I think he —"_

_She feels a presence close behind her. Almost too close for comfort, invading her personal space. She turns in surprise, opening her mouth to speak but a sharp stabbing pain in the back of her thigh takes precedence. She yelps, stumbling slightly as someone's shoulder brushes against her._

_She stops in her tracks, doubled over and clutching the afflicted area. Glancing up, she sees someone stride away. Dressed in an overcoat and hat, only the mystery person's back is visible. The coat tails flap in the wind and the figure disappears amongst the raincoats and umbrellas crossing her field of vision._

_She gasps, gripping her thigh tighter. Pain radiates into her muscles._

_"What happened, Mommy?"_

_"Felt something..."_ _She trails off, glancing around in mounting fear; her mouth dry._   _"Something has…" she begins, and she's sweating now despite the cold, her hands shaking. "I don't feel…"_

_Wetting her lips and struggling to focus, s_ _he glances down at Eli, who is currently chewing quietly on his fingers._

_"Hannah, I need you to…"_

_Her speech is slurred, heart pounding in her chest. Sick and dizzy. She grabs hold of the pram to steady herself, feeling her knees buckle beneath her._

_"Mommy?" Hannah's face is a blur. "Mommy, what's the —"_

_"Don't feel…" she begins, dropping heavily to the ground. "I don't…"_

_"Mommy?"_

_Hannah's voice is tearful, frightened. She feels her daughter's hands touching her face, gripping her shoulders, trying to shake her. Someone else; a man's voice, asking if everything's okay._

_"Mommy!"_

_Without warning, her body pitches and fits. She's conscious throughout. Her breath comes in shallow bursts and she reaches out blindly, trying to grip the pram wheels in an effort to drag Eli closer._

_The convulsions are too strong. Jerky movements and spasms overcome her body. She senses someone holding her hand, talking to her urgently._

_"What's your name, darling?"_

_Rachel, she wants to say._

_Rachel._

_No._

_My name is Linka._

_But her voice has failed._

_More onlookers. Hannah is howling in the background but the sound of her daughter eventually fades away; replaced by a high-pitched single note ringing in her ears._

_Linka's life ebbs away with the rain pooling around her._

_Infinite nothingness as she draws her last breath._

* * *

 

**End of Part Two**

* * *

 

 


	48. Chapter 48

"Took her back to my place," Isaac said, taking a swig of Coke. He crushed the can with his free hand, tossing it out the window and grinning at his colleague. "She's a gymnast."

Bruno grunted in response. In all honesty, he didn't give a damn about Isaac's extra-curricular activities. Car-pooling with this buffoon was already becoming problematic. The  _idiota_ had been caught driving while under the influence — losing his licence privileges for the second time — so now Bruno and another colleague were having to 'share the load'.

The man had a distinct lack of social skills. Only three topics of conversation ever came up and Bruno was pretty sure that most of the information recounted was heavily embellished anyway.

The  _rapaz_  had a vivid imagination.

Isaac lent back in his seat, propping his feet against the dashboard. "She was flexible."

"Great."

" _Mamas grandes._ "

"Uh huh."

"Apparently Jose was kicked out by security after we left. Passed out in the gutter. They just left him there."

"Mmm hmm."

"Good night, though. Great band. Little loud for my liking, but they sounded okay."

Bruno grunted again.

"You should come next time."

"Maybe."

"Might need to stop off and get a coffee. My head is pounding, man. I swear that's the last time I —"

"We're late."

Issac shrugged, staring at the dirt road ahead as they made their way through the winding cotton fields towards the textile mill. "Boss won't know the difference."

Bruno rolled his eyes. If anyone was going to notice, their employer would.

"I heard he fired Maria?"

"Yeah."

"Her kid has leukaemia or something?"

"Mmm."

"That'd suck, man. Girl takes a couple of days unpaid leave for the kid's chemo and boom — no job! Guess it's no excuse, though. Plenty of others who need the work and will actually turn up, right? Can't be making allowances for —"

Bruno tuned out. He rubbed a hand over his face, making a mental note to slip something unsavoury between Isaac's slices of bread — picturing him biting into it during their ten minute lunch break.

"— then you've got all the kids on the looms and wheels whining about the state of their fingers. Just gotta man up and do it, ya know?" Isaac took another sip of his drink, nodding towards the pothole in the middle of the road ahead. "Watch out for the —"

"I can see it," Bruno snapped back.

"No need to get —"

"Do you ever shut up?"

They sat in silence for a while, bumping along the road. The dry heat was blistering — it was unseasonably warm for this time of year. The vehicle had no air conditioning so the windows were all down. The negative side effect was the dust — thick and choking, coating all surfaces of the car.

The boss was already unhappy with the discolouration of the crops. Processing times had doubled, leading to increased manufacturing costs. It had been a long time since they'd seen rain.

Uncomfortable conditions and the passenger from hell — a recipe for disaster. Bruno gripped the wheel harder, wiping the sweat of his brow using his shirt sleeve. The air shimmered but his attention was suddenly diverted.

"Who's that?" Isaac asked, pointing ahead, also having noticed the strange sight by the side of the road.

Bruno squinted, craning his neck and surveying two motorbikes beside the bordering fenceline, abandoned. A large bag was propped up against one. He looked out at the fields of cotton plants, stretching as far as the eye could see. He could just make out a couple of heads bobbing in the distance amongst the crops.

"That's Luis' Honda," Isaac said as they slowed, brakes squealing to a stop.

Bruno sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring at a long, narrow strip of white fabric that had snagged itself on the barbed wire fence separating the road from the field. It jerked and flapped in the breeze, as if pointing towards something beyond their view.

He suddenly felt uneasy.

He stepped out of the car and made his way over. On closer inspection, he realised the fabric was similar to thin muslin cloth. It continued to flutter, stretching into the air at least six feet in length; out of place even amongst the cotton crops surrounding it. He grabbed a section of it — passing his fingers over the fabric.

Streaks of red were visible beneath his fingers.

" _Meu deus_ ," came a rasping voice from behind him. Bruno spun around just in time to see Isaac staggering away from the bikes and the mystery bag, doubled-over and dry-retching violently. Isaac eventually fell to his knees and vomited into the grass.

"What is it?" he called, but Isaac didn't respond. Remaining where he was, Isaac wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, staring in horror at the incongruous package nearby.

Bruno turned his attention back to the field. More shadows bobbed amongst the cotton plants. "Hello?" Bruno called, gripping the wire and shielding his eyes from the sun. "What are you —"

"Bruno? That you?"

" _Sim!_ "

Get over here!"

Recognising Luis' voice, Bruno lifted the wire and climbed through, darting between the cotton plants as the voices became louder. He looked around, searching for his colleague. "Where are —"

"Here," came the tense reply. "We've got something here. I've called it in."

"What was in the bag?" he replied, swatting a fly away. "I still cannot find you —"

"Here."

Bruno quickened his pace, spotting Luis's small form through the foliage. Another man was with him and they were both staring at the ground. Someone lay crumpled at their feet, face down. Still and unmoving; tanned, leathery skin covered in mosquito bites.

"Is he alive?"

"I'm not touching that," the other man piped up, and Bruno pushed him aside in disgust. He dropped to his knees, prodding and poking the man cautiously. Eventually he rolled the body over with Louis' help.

Short beard and moustache. Thick-set, ropy build. Hardened features — his bald head gleaming in the afternoon sun. Congealed blood covered his T-shirt. Bruno lifted the fabric gently. A deep wound was visible just below his ribs. His eyes swept over the man's face again.

Recognition flooded through him.

"Argos Bleak," he breathed, sitting back on his haunches and glancing up at the shocked faces. "It's Argos Bleak."

"He alive?"

Bruno leaned forward, checking for a pulse. Lowering his head, he felt the faint rise and fall of Bleak's chest. Slow, wheezing breaths. He didn't look good.

"Yes, I… I think so," he said. " _Merda._ You said you have called it in?"

"Yes. There was a body on the road," Luis explained, pointing towards the motorbikes. "Wrapped in bandages, half out of the bag. We nearly ran it over."

"Another body over there," the other man said, indicating to the left.

More vehicles were arriving. Bruno looked up, spotting his employer's security guards moving quickly through the crops. Burly, pissed-off looking men with their weapons raised. Bruno rose to his feet and stepped back, watching as the guards emerged and began barking orders.

"Get to work," one shouted, jabbing his rifle in Bruno's direction. "You are all late!"

Luis and his friend scrambled away, not even daring to look back. Heading for their bikes, they took off in a cloud of dirt and dust. The factory was still a ten minute drive.

"Move!" another barked, shoulder-barging Bruno aside. The guards were gathered around Bleak now, talking in low voices. He watched as a few began to divide up in order to search the rest of the field.

He turned on his heel, striding away as the guards took charge. Another piece of fabric rustled nearby, attached to a cotton plant. He changed direction, moving to grab it and nearly tripped over a pair of legs in the process.

A girl lay on her side, curled up in a foetal position. Mosquito-bitten like Bleak. Matted blonde hair and quite obviously injured — covered in cuts and bleeding from the hands and feet.

Bruno crouched down, checking her pulse and wondering how on earth they had both ended up unconscious in the middle of this isolated farming paddock. He bent lower, placing his palm across her forehead. Dark lashes framed against pale skin; her clothes were stained and bloodied just as Bleak's had been. A slender wrist was bent at an unnatural angle.

He hesitated, remaining low. Glancing back towards the guards who were just visible through the crops. They were moving Bleak out, man-handling him back towards their waiting vehicles.

In good conscience, he wasn't ready or willing to hand the woman over to their custody. He was a father himself. Two little girls. Plunder's guards were renowned for their bad behaviour and bullying tactics. The thought of what they —

"YOU!"

Bruno froze, scampering aside as a guard approached them.

"Over here! Another one!"

More shouts. Bruno jumped to his feet, moving away quickly and heading towards the road. He glanced back over his shoulder worriedly as they prodded her with their feet, talking amongst themselves. The guard with the long hair soon picked her up and Bruno watched the woman disappear amongst the plants. Her bloodied feet brushed against the foliage — one arm dangling limply towards the ground — and then she was gone.

"Won't ask you again."

The tone was threatening. A swarthy guard remained behind; weapon trained on Bruno. A salacious grin on his ugly, weathered face. Knowing the bastard would have no qualms about using him for target practice, Bruno hurried off.

* * *

The sound was beyond annoying. A persistent scratching. It would stop for several moments then start up again. A clock ticking. Everything seemed amplified to his ears, even the background noise. Muffled and distorted, as if he were underwater.

He rolled over. Exquisite pain flared through his mid-section and he groaned loudly, clutching his abdomen.

"Nice of you to join us."

Bleak's eyes flew open. The scratching sound started again, slow and deliberate. He pushed himself into a sitting position, disorientated. Hands lying flat against the couch beneath him. Dizzy and sick, he braced himself against the arm rest, glancing around in confusion.

"Wha —" he rasped, and a coughing fit overtook him, expanding his ribcage and nearly causing him to pass out from the agony. "Ah shit!"

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Plunder was seated at his favourite mahogany desk. His pen continued scraping against the paper. He looked up, levelling his steely gaze on Bleak; eyebrows raised as he waited for a response.

Bleak's eyes lulled closed again; trying to piece together his fragmented thoughts. His brain wasn't firing, no matter how hard he tried.

"Did it work?"

"What?" Bleak asked, sounding annoyed. He had a splitting headache and was craving sleep. Unwilling to be interrogated at this point in time. "I don't… what —"

Plunder's pen continued scratching away. He placed an official looking document to the side and started on the next one — neat, precise handwriting.

"How did she die?"

Bleak stared at him. He swallowed painfully. His mouth was dry as he glanced down, trying to make sense of the filthy, bloodied clothes hanging from his body. He had no discernible explanation for them and this lack of knowledge frustrated the hell out of him. "What —"

"Had to get the good doctor in to take care of that," Plunder said, gesturing towards Bleak's stomach without looking up. "Couple of units of blood. Antibiotics and a tetanus shot. Wasn't cheap."

"Someone stabbed me?" Bleak asked, words slurred. He raised his shirt, spotting the neat row of stitches and the inflamed skin surrounding it.

"Missed your abdominal cavity. An inch to the left and it would have punctured a major artery."

"I —"

"Wasn't cheap. Deducting the Doc's service fee from your pay," Plunder said, waving his hand towards Bleak. "I'm not responsible for that."

Bleak was totally bewildered. "Did I get into a fight?"

"You tell me." Plunder tossed the pen aside and clasped his hands together, leaning back in his chair. Looking Bleak over.

Bleak slumped against the backrest, looking down at his bloodied T shirt. Trying to piece together the details, to draw forth some explanation from his sketchy, muddled brain. Various scenarios ran through his head, but nothing tangible.

"I'm waiting."

"What —" he said, flinching as Plunder jumped to his feet, a vein popping out on his forehead.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" The chair skittered across the hardwood floor, kicked aside. It hit the wall and bounced across the floor. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"I —"

"You've got some damn explaining to do!"

"I don't know," Bleak rasped. He sat rigidly, passing a hand over his head; noting the blood and dirt caked within his fingernails. His hands were shaking and he clenched them into fists. "I don't —"

"Did it work?"

"What?"

"DON"T YOU FUCKING PLAY GAMES WITH ME!" Plunder exploded, and for the first time that he could ever recall, Bleak shrunk back. "What the fuck happened? Did it work or not?"

He pushed himself to his feet slowly, wincing. "Just give me a —"

"Blight's fucking time machine! Did it work? You better have a damn good explanation about where you've been for the past ten weeks or —"

_Ten weeks._

Bleak's jaw dropped as Plunder continued to prattle on, pacing the floor and throwing his arms around like a kid in the midst of a temper tantrum.

"Ten weeks?"

"Did the fucking technology work? Because you sure as hell haven't been here!"

"I don't re —"

"Don't give me that," Plunder snapped, rounding on him. The vein in his forehead was even more prominent than before. "I invested heavily in that technology and I now appear to have nothing to show for it!"

"You gotta —"

"Nothin' to show except you banged up to all hell, two mummified bodies and a half-dead planet pest! How did Blight die? Is the other one Kroi? Half of the bastard's face is missing!"

"Boss, I don't know!" he seethed. "I don't fucking know!"

"How convenient," Plunder said. He returned to the desk, dropping back into his chair and glaring at Bleak. "Just fucking wonderful."

Bleak pushed himself to his feet. He swayed slightly, scratching his arms — covered in dozens of bites. "You mentioned a planet pest?"

"Got blondie locked down in the mill," he said. "Still workin' out what to do with her."

Bleak passed a hand over his scalp. This whole conversation was just so surreal.

"Don't remember anything," Bleak repeated. "You gonna contact her —"

"Are you kidding?" he replied, leaning back and crossing his legs. "Do you know how fucking uncomplicated my life has been lately?"

"Does she know what —"

"Still unconscious." He smirked, picking up the pen again and resuming his work. "Princess isn't in a good way, I'm told. I'll have someone question her if she wakes."

"And if she doesn't?"

"I'll have her put down in the next day or two anyway."

"Jesus." Bleak knew what that meant. "Got no memory of anything, Boss. Feel like I've been —"

"Go and get cleaned up," Plunder said, resuming his writing tasks. "You've been out of it for a few days. Had enough time off. Need you out in the mill to supervise."

Bleak glanced down. He was exhausted; craving sleep and needing something of the medicinal variety to knock out the pain.

"Is there a problem?"

The tone was dangerous. Plunder raised his eyes to Bleak. The pen had stopped again — the vein had reappeared and Bleak knew his employer was  _pissed_. Angry at Bleak's lack of answers.

"No, Boss," he said, clenching his fists and hobbling out of the room. "No problem."

* * *

The shower was anything but enjoyable — the warm water stung his skin and his muscles felt like they were on fire. Bleak grabbed a clean set of clothes and dressed quickly, eyeing the new cell phone sitting idly on the small desk. Plunder's lifeline. There were already three text messages.

_Old habits die hard._

He sniffed, reaching over and shoving the cellphone into his trousers. A foil packet of antibiotics lay on his stretcher bed. He dry-swallowed two tablets, pocketing the rest. The stretcher bed looked mighty appealing, but his phone vibrated again and he sighed.

_You can sleep when you're dead._

His eyes settled on the bloodied clothes lying just outside of the shower. Unable to bend down, it took him several attempts to grab hold of them.

He'd never experienced anything like it. The pain was excruciating — like the lactic acid build-up felt the day after a vigorous workout — then multiplied by a thousand.

"Fuck," he muttered, still at a loss to explain his current condition. It was like huge chunks of his memory were missing. The connections weren't firing. Perhaps amnesia, or some form of nerve gas. "Fuckin' insane."

He clutched the bloodied shirt and trousers, tossing them on the stretcher bed, planning on lighting a few matches and burning them later. Bonfire night.

_Aren't much good for anything else._

He heard a small thump as something struck the floor. A tarnished chain lay by his feet and he frowned, not recognising it.

Again, several attempts were made to pick it up. It was a woman's dainty necklace. Old and discoloured, the jewellery was rusted in places; the chain joined at the centre with a bolt-ring type enclosure.

He glanced at the trousers and sat down, beginning to rifle through the pockets. Finding odds and ends that he couldn't account for. A lone battery, a couple of wine corks, a mini flashlight.

None of it meant anything.

His fingers scraped something else and he pulled the last item out. Staring hard at the image in his hand, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Of  _who_  he was seeing. He flipped it over, reading the untidy scrawl on the back and glancing towards the main factory.

_What the fuck?_

He stood quickly, gathering his stuff and heading for the mill. He had more questions now... and still no answers.

The walk was a long one, mainly due to the fact that he was struggling to move efficiently. He entered through the back, passing between the employees working the spinning machines. They bowed their heads in deference, refusing to make eye contact.

The guards here were notorious for clipping those they believed to be working too slow. Hacking and coughing punctuated the sounds of the machinery from those already in the grip of cotton dust disease.

He continued on, searching the lunch rooms and offices, overcome by the need to equate the object in his hand with a face or an explanation for his distinct lack of memory. What he was seeing didn't make sense. It wasn't possible.

Yet there it was, in plain view.

He spotted an older woman leaving the utility room. It housed the manufacturing chemicals, and Bleak pressed forward, opening the door and sticking his head in.

The window had been opened to allow for maximum ventilation. His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he spotted her. Blondie was lying on her back; still unconscious and in the grip of a high fever. A man and a woman were sitting with her; sponging her face and talking softly to her. Tending to her.

He could see her feet were cut to pieces. An infection had set in. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The workers jumped; twisting and staring in fright at Bleak, looking equal parts guilty and worried for their own safety.

They moved to flee and Bleak grabbed the wrist of the woman as she passed, stopping her. She looked terrified, already flinching for the blow that was expected.

"Grab some clean clothes for her," he ordered, and she nodded, eyes wide and hurrying away with her head lowered.

He sighed, dropping down next to Blondie; gritting his teeth as exquisite pain flared across his mid-section.

Plunder was right — she looked ill. Cheeks flushed; her breathing was slow and labored. Her feet were a mangled mess and her hands were also in bad shape — fingernails torn; a long, vertical cut present running down her right palm. A small bottle of water sat beside her hip, probably an attempt by the workers to get some fluid into her.

He pulled his antibiotics out, opening two capsules and tipping the powder into his hand. By now the woman had returned laden with clothing, and he beckoned her over.

"Help me," he grunted. She dropped the skirt and blouse, kneeling on the other side of her. Blondie's head lolled against his shoulder as they pulled her into a semi-upright position. She was sweaty, warm to the touch as he tilted her jaw open and sprinkled the medication into her mouth.

The older woman encouraged her to drink and Bleak watched Blondie's throat pulse twice before she choked, body jerking as she spluttered water everywhere.

They repeated the process again, with more success the second time.

"Get her dressed," he said. The woman clutched the clothes to her chest, unsure of how to proceed. "Clean her up."

He left the room, closing the door behind him. He stood, gathering his thoughts, pulling out the photo and staring hard at it. Still trying to draw forth… something. Anything.

A memory.

A recollection.

A god-damn explanation would have been a good start.

A guard approached from the production area, chest puffed out and glaring at Bleak. Swinging his weapon in what was meant to be a menacing manner.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at?" Bleak snapped, and the guard doubled his efforts, slinking past with a great deal less swagger.

He studied the image some more, trying to make sense of it. Turning it over and reading the untidy message again and again, until the letters and digits began to blur into one another. His pocket buzzed again, no doubt another text from Plunder.

Back to reality.

_Do this. Do that. Hurry up. Don't fuck it up. Just deal with it. I need it done yesterday._

Anger and resentment hit him hard.

It was unexpected.

Pulling his phone out, he ignored Plunder's message and began to dial.


	49. Chapter 49

Six weeks later

It wasn't much, but it was home.

Kwame glanced out the window as he passed through the security checkpoint, waving to the guards seated within. He knew their names and their stories — had spent hours chatting with them. Preferring to spend time in the company of decent, honest people; rather than sit alone, staring at the television on his days off.

Living here was certainly an experience.

It was almost amusing: going from the beauty and serenity of Hope Island to a gated community in the midst of Joberg. Surrounded by high borders and barbed wire, the heavy-handed measures were meant to instil a sense of security. A sanctuary to most; protecting young professionals and families from the high crime rate beyond the community walls.

To Kwame, it resembled a prison.

Sometimes he wasn't sure it these estates were designed to keep the 'undesirables' out or the community members in. Johannesburg was certainly a bustling hub, teeming with people of all ages and backgrounds. He had been reluctant to come, but the job offer had been too good to refuse.

Foreman for a landscaping company, The Evergreen Group held contracts with most municipal councils within South Africa. Work certainly kept him busy, and he enjoyed being out amongst — quite literally — his element.

The company had offered subsidised accomodation as part of their contract in a bid to lure him in. Touted as an attractive, master-planned community with a village atmosphere, it had certainly piqued Kwame's interest.

The tactic had worked. It had been the icing on the cake — he'd signed the contract.

Once reality had set in, Kwame had found himself disappointed. The term 'Wilmont Gardens' was almost deceptive by nature…

It contained no actual gardens.

There was a distinct lack of trees here. The landscaping left a lot to be desired. It was barren: all concrete and bitumen and soon Kwame found himself craving his old vegetable garden. He had no backyard, just a cramped back patio bordered by timber fencing. There was no room to establish a decent garden, so he'd persevered with hanging plants and indoor species.

There was also a pool, community centre and a poorly maintained golf course — the only 'natural' green space within the property. Even the children's playground contained fake grass, which probably required more upkeep than the real thing.

A groundskeeper had been vacuuming the astro-turf when Kwame had first moved in, and the sight had amused him greatly. His first instinct had been to take a photo and email it to a certain ex-colleague who never failed to see the bright side of life.

Unfortunately, the bright side of life seemed to be evading Wheeler lately. The phone calls were becoming few and far between, despite Kwame's regular attempts to maintain contact.

Wheeler was drifting away.

The car pulled into the driveway and he leaned forward, paying the driver and grabbing his backpack. He headed for the house, rifling through the front pocket of his bag for the keys and letting himself in.

Dumping the bag on the kitchen table, he went about fixing himself a sandwich. Juggling the plate with a beer and a book, he took himself out the front — intent on enjoying his Friday evening.

The weekend beckoned. He'd forgotten what it was like — participating in a typical working week wasn't something he was used to.

He dropped into the small setting under the front porch, balancing his plate across his lap as he settled into the chair.

It was in the steely grip of silence that he thought about her the most. The quiet times when he wasn't bogged down by work, or out socialising with his new work mates. When he wasn't engaged in activities to keep his mind off things.

The moments when he found himself reflecting on what could have been. What  _should_  have been.

The smallest things would trigger him. A blonde pony-tail. A soft, feminine voice with just a hint of a European accent — it didn't even have to be Russian. He'd look away, burying himself in plants or paperwork in order have something else to focus on.

It still hurt.

Not knowing was the worst. She'd simply disappeared. No body, no sign. Nothing.

And still, the overwhelming knowledge that he'd failed her.

He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully, watching the sun set behind the horizon. A couple of bikes rode past, followed by a young family walking their dogs. He raised his hand in greeting and they waved back. Kwame smiled, hearing their excited babble gradually fade away, replaced by his neighbour's television and the odd vehicle passing by.

Life was different now. It was the 'new' normal. Not necessarily unpleasant, but it certainly didn't compare to the friends (and the life) that he'd left behind.

Friends who had become a surrogate family over the years. Replacement siblings.

Nothing would make up for the sister he'd lost.

He lent back, clutching his beer and watching the world go by.

Lost in memory and burdened by regret.

* * *

Seven Weeks Later

"I don't need to see someone," Gi grumbled, struggling to catch up with her mother as the older woman negotiated her way through the crowd. "I'm perfectly capable of —"

"Enough, Gi," her mother replied softly. "We have already been through this."

She sighed, allowing herself to be pulled along. Resigning herself to her mother's will. Beyond the point of caring anymore.

A detached apathy clouded her thoughts now. 'Auto-pilot' seemed to be her preferred mode of functioning these days.

Just going through the motions.

Her mother led her towards a lift and they made their way up, listening to a truly horrendous South Korean pop song blasting through the speakers on the wall. Gi scrunched her face up, resisting the urge to head-butt the wall. After so many years exposed to Western music, K-Pop had become an acquired taste.

The doors  _pinged_  and the pair stepped out onto the landing. Her mother squeezed her hand, offering Gi a reassuring smile over her shoulder as they entered a small office.

A waiting room lay beyond. Gi dropped into a spare seat, staring at the front desk as her mother spoke to the receptionist. She had no interest in the hushed conversation taking place a few feet from where she was sitting.

But then, she wasn't interested in much of anything anymore.

Her duties were falling by the wayside

Collecting specimens, supervising the research teams. Writing reports and taking notes on breeding patterns.

Observing her beloved dolphins.

She'd lost the will to do any of it — ambivalent towards the things that had once brought her such joy. There seemed to be no common ground when it came to her emotions. She spent her days withdrawn and quiet, or angry and tearful — lashing out, and it was her parents who bore the brunt of her outbursts.

Gi looked down, twisting her hands nervously. Just wanting to sleep — to curl up in her bed and not have to pretend to function.

"Fill this out, Gi," her mother said gently, taking a seat beside her. A clipboard was placed on her lap and Gi sighed, beginning the arduous process of filling out the questionnaire.

She scribbled away for a while, answering the questions as honestly as possible.

_Do you feel tired or have little energy?_

Check.

_Have you experienced little to no interest or pleasure in doing things?_

Check.

_Have you had trouble concentrating on things?_

Check.

_Do you have trouble falling or staying asleep, or sleeping too much?_

Check.

A name was called and Gi glanced up, watching a middle-aged man wander into the room and disappear from her view. The door closed behind him.

She tapped her pen on the clipboard, avoiding the next question. Uncomfortable at the thought of her mother sneaking a glance at the potential answer. She didn't want that on her conscience. Regardless of her current mood, she loved her parents very much.

Perfectly put together, Gi's mother was always well presented, with not so much as a hair out of place. Fine features and an upturned nose, Min-Ji was a tiny slip of a thing. Appearances can be deceiving, however. She had a strong will and a sharp mind, often underestimated by those around her.

No nonsense, but loving all the same. Gi sniffed, feeling her mother's arm drape around her neck. Gi leaned in, resting her head on Min-Ji's shoulder. Inhaling the perfume that always seemed to permeate the air around her. It was comforting. It smelt like home.

Almost.

The questionnaire was pushed aside. Gi closed her eyes, blocking out everything but her mothers's scent and touch, until the psychologist called her name and ushered her inside.

* * *

Ten Weeks Later

"Huh?"

"Natural sciences," she explained, leaning in further to be heard over the techno song blaring in the background. "The guy failed me. Woulda' maintained my 3.0 average otherwise."

"Okay."

Trish was so close now that Wheeler could see the clumps of mascara attached to her thick lashes. She smiled, elbowing him affectionately and sloshing a good portion of vodka and orange all over herself.

"Ah crap," she muttered, brushing off the excess moisture before settling back beside him and gracing him with a bright smile. "All good. I'll re-sit the course over the summer."

"Yep."

"Great parties," she continued, pressing on despite his lack of interest. "Campus is huge. My sorority is amazing, great bunch of girls. Surprised they accepted me, bein' older and all."

"Uh huh."

"Should come visit me, Wheels." She twisted and lent forward, fiddling with the buttons of his collared shirt. She smoothing her hand against his chest before letting it fall into her lap. "Before I graduate. Before I'm spendin' my days drownin' in social work."

"We'll see." He shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable. "You'll be workin' for the government?"

"Wanna go into private or corporate practice," she yelled as the music got louder. "More money."

A hint of a smile. "No free psych sessions?"

"Wouldn't be able to afford me, honey," she replied with a wink. Trish took a sip of her drink, tapping the glass with a red acrylic nail as she regarded him quietly. "How's the new place goin'?"

"Huh?"

"How's the new place goin'?" she yelled back.

"Okay."

"Guys aren't drivin' you nuts?"

"No more than my parents were."

"Oh."

The bar was at full capacity. Uncomfortably hot. The music was so bone-shatteringly loud that he could feel his teeth chattering with each bass note.

"So good to see ya," she said loudly, leaning into him again. "Good to have you home."

Wheeler couldn't manage a suitable response to that one. He just nodded; sipping his beer and watching his idiot roommates chatting up girls at the bar. Pulling out grandiose moves and bragging about their very minor accomplishments as if they were worthy of intense admiration. So called million-dollar sales and delusions of managerial success…

In reality, Luke was a part-time car salesman and Joey worked on an assembly line at a meat-packing plant.

"They haven't changed," Trish said, pointing to Luke who was now beating his chest and making ape noises, much to the amusement of the girls hovering around him. "Still the same as high school."

"Yeah," Wheeler said.

"They've missed you, though." Trish smiled, leaning forward again and kissing him softly on the cheek. " _I've_ missed you."

She stood, clutching her drink and sashaying towards Luke and the other buffoons carrying on at the bar. They were all drunk, just as he knew they would be. Seven years and nothing had changed.

It was always the same song and dance — just a different venue, now. No longer partying in someone's basement or roaming the streets, but the outcome was still the same. Within the next hour the boys would either be kicked out for lewd behaviour or start a fight with someone they had no chance in hell of taking down.

He really couldn't be bothered with any of it any more.

Maybe he'd outgrown them.

The music quietened down and he settled back, checking his phone, aware that Trish was nearby; ensconced in a conversation with her girlfriends. Sneaky glances were thrown in his direction every now and then.

"I think you're in trouble."

"I noticed," Wheeler replied, patting the seat as Deb sat down beside him. "She's makin' me nervous."

"Trish's hell-bent on gettin' back with you," she said, reaching around and fiddling with something behind her back. "You better watch your back… and front, for that matter."

"Ugh."

"Not interested?"

"Been down that road," he said. "Got nothin' in common any more."

"Big campus girl," Deb said. "It's all she talks about. Thank God she's heading back next week."

"She's drivin' me nuts," he admitted. "Comin' around to the house a lot."

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." Deb grunted, pulling her arms through thin straps. To Wheeler's surprise, she removed her bra with a heavy sigh, stuffing it into her purse. "Girl's on a mission."

"What the heck are you doin'?"

"Full of milk," she complained, pointing to the wet patches covering her top. "Check 'em out. Bub's overdue for a feed."

"Does that really happen?" He looked slightly disturbed, unsure whether to accept the invitation to stare or avert his eyes. "Like, are you leakin' right —"

"Like a tap," she said. "Can't go for more than a couple of hours. Rock hard."

"Okay." His curiosity was piqued. "Do they hurt?"

"Yeah," she said. Deb grabbed his hand, placing it over her left breast. "Feel 'em."

"Jesus, Deb," he yelped, unable to help breaking out into a grin. "Dude, I really don't need to…"

"They're about to explode," she said, laughing at his reaction. "That's what I have to live with. Life of a new mother, huh?"

"You're still shameless, girl." He withdrew his hand, chuckling to himself. "Moron."

"Just wanted to get a rise outta that one," she said with a smirk, motioning towards Trish who was openly glaring at the pair from across the room.

"Reckon you're gonna pay for that tomorrow. Trish tends to hold a grudge."

"Yeah," she said, glancing in the direction of the closed off area designated for smokers. She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Need to get home. Babysitter should have left an hour ago."

"You goin' now?"

"Yeah. Doesn't look like Nick's comin' with me." She nodded her head towards the thick haze beyond the glass. "Coughin' his lungs up in there somewhere."

"Wanna split a cab?"

"You leavin' too?"

"Bored outta my damn skull."

"Never thought I'd see the day." She smiled at him fondly, ruffling his hair. "Number one party boy has settled down."

"Ready when you are." He shrugged, gathering his jacket. "I'm done. We splittin' that cab?"

"I was gonna walk. Only two blocks."

"You're not walkin', Deb."

"I've done it plenty of times before, you —"

"It's eleven o'clock in freakin' downtown Brooklyn," he said, exasperated. "You're not walkin' home."

"Nick lets me walk home all the —"

"Nick's an asshole," he said, grabbing her purse. "Stop arguin' with —"

"I'm lactating, not a complete invalid."

"I'm takin' you and your leaky boobs home," he replied, rising to his feet. "You've got a baby to feed. I've got a sci-fi movie marathon with my name written all over it."

"Fine," she muttered, swiping at him playfully. "I'll check with Cath. I think she was wantin' to leave soon, too."

He gave the thumbs up sign, and she shook her head, grinning at him. "Some things never change."

"How so?"

"Still got a hero complex, Wheeler," she laughed, taking his offered hand and pulling herself up. "Always tryin' to save someone."

He winced, looking away, and her discomfort was quickly apparent.

"Oh God, hon," she said, blushing deep red. She stepped forward, clutching his hand, embarrassed. "Oh God, I wasn't thinking, Jake. I'm so sorry, I wasn't —"

"S'alright," he said, his good mood having evaporated. "Can't save all of 'em, I guess."

She studied him for a long time. Too long; until it got to the point where he was purposely avoiding eye contact with her. Finally she nodded, squeezing his hand.

"Okay. I'll grab Cath. Let Nick know we're heading off," she said, leaving him alone as she hurried away into the crowd.

He rubbed his face tiredly, watching Joey getting overly aggressive with a couple of guys in high visibility vests.

The first fight of the night was about to kick off.

"Christ," he muttered, silently willing Deb to hurry up, wondering how he'd let himself be talked into coming out in the first place. Deb seemed to be the only person from his old crew who he didn't have to pretend with. She was still the same — a little rough around the edges. Brutally honest, impulsive, loyal and the only one without an inflated sense of self-importance.

Terrible taste in guys, though. That hadn't changed.

The scent of lavender floated past. Strong and unexpected, he straightened, seeking out the source. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

A bellow, then the sound of a fist hitting flesh. He glanced up, unsurprised at the sight of Joey hitting the floor. Luke dove in soon after and Wheeler rolled his eyes at the scuffle going on across the room.

_Morons._

The scent of lavender wafted past once again. He tensed up, staring past the drunken wrestling match and the small group of people who had gathered to watch. A flash of mauve fabric floated past his line of sight, trailing amongst the rabble of sweating, heaving bodies currently on the dance floor.

A female figure weaved her way through the crowd. Long, dark hair curling gently down her back. Smooth, tanned skin… and then she was gone.

Another burst of floral perfume.

He swallowed; his mouth dry as he scanned the area; alert and wary now. 

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing down and studying the unlisted number flashing on the screen.

"Yeah?" he said, shoving his finger in his other ear to block out the background noise. He could just make out a male voice on the other end. "Say that again?"

He couldn't hear a thing. "Hang on," he yelled, pushing through the bodies and heading towards the back entry door. "Gimme a minute."

Shouldering the metal door open, he nodded at the big security guard posted outside, heading out into the back delivery dock. Two inebriated lovebirds were making out behind a dumpster and once spotted, they slunk quickly back inside, casting furtive glances at Wheeler.

The security guard soon followed them, probably responding to a call for assistance — no doubt due to the two morons brawling inside the premises.

He ignored their hasty departure, leaning against the dumpster and speaking into the phone again. "Yeah?"

"This Pyro?"

"Yeah," he said, confused. No one had ever called him that outside of the Planeteers. "Who's this?"

"Bleak."

Wheeler did a double-take, sure that he'd misheard. "Who?"

"Argos Bleak."

"Bleak's dead, jackass," he said, clenching his fists. "Try again."

"Got a package for ya," the voice said. "Got a pen?"

"No," Wheeler seethed, not in the mood to humor the caller. "Look, asshole. Why don't you just crawl back into whatever hole you —"

"I'll text you the address, Firebug," he said, and Wheeler's heart skipped a beat. "Better make it fast. She's not in a good way. Boss is plannin' on havin' her disappear for good this time."

"What —" he started, clutching the phone so tight his fingers were starting to throb. The same rough inflections, same British/Australian, course accent. It sure as hell  _sounded_  like Argos Bleak. A little subdued, perhaps, but still… "Wait, how do I know —"

"Come. Don't come. I don't care, kid," the caller said. The tone was weary, almost resigned. "I've held up my end."

The phone clicked off, leaving Wheeler standing in the middle of the alleyway; astonished, heart thumping loudly in his chest. Daring to believe, just for a moment that maybe —

"Wheeler?"

A soft voice. He spun around, and Gaia stood in front of him. Ma-Ti was beside her, clad only in a pair of jeans. His hair was dishevelled; looking like he'd just been woken from sleep.

"What —"

"Wheeler, we need to —"

"What's goin' on," he said, holding his phone out, still bewildered as a result of the conversation. "Just had the weirdest phone call —"

"I think the wind ring has returned," Gaia said, pressing on despite Wheeler's attempts to interrupt. She held out her hands. "I thought I was mistaken. I sensed the element several days ago but —"

"Wait, what about Lin —" Wheeler started, his voice rising with frustration.

"— there was no sign of Linka's presence along with it."

Ma-Ti seemed to be contemplating Gaia's words. "Do you think she's here, Gaia?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "As I said, I have only sensed the ring. Not Linka herself — but there may be influencing factors responsible for that. I've been waiting for contact to be made."

"Guy said he was Argos Bleak," Wheeler said, looking down as his phone lit up. A text message had come through. He scanned through the contents, reading the address as Ma-Ti peered over his shoulder.

"Oh my God," Ma-Ti whispered, reading the message for himself. "Do you think —"

Wheeler's expression hardened. "Could be a trap. Someone pretendin' to be Bleak. Could be Plunder tryin' to get to us."

"What purpose would that serve?" Ma-Ti asked. "Why would they make contact? We have been out of action for months now, we —"

"I don't know, Ma-Ti," Gaia said. "But I know something has shifted earth-wise. Something has balanced out. I need the two of you to go and make contact."

"Do we let the others know?"

"Not yet," Gaia said, extending her hand and offering the two rings. She looked troubled. "I can contact the others if we end up with something more substantial. Gi is struggling enough as it is. I don't want to get her hopes up. It may be nothing — I just don't know what you'll be walking into. I cannot make any guarantees."

"I need to know," Wheeler said quietly. He stared down at his phone, holding onto the small ounce of hope that had sprung forth. It was better than drowning in apathy. "I need closure either way. I'm going."

"I'll be nearby," Gaia said, as both he and Ma-Ti took the offered rings. "Go and check things out. Ma-Ti can contact me if you need to make an exit."

Wheeler nodded, slipping his ring on his finger.

"Good luck," she said, vanishing from sight and leaving the two men alone in the deserted alleyway.

Wheeler sagged against the dumpster, panic mounting at the thought of what awaited them. "Ma-Ti, if it's not her, I don't think I can handle…"

"I know," he said reassuringly, placing his hand on Wheeler's shoulder. "I guess there is only one way to find out."

Wheeler nodded, adrenaline surging through his body. The anticipation was rising, and it was fucking terrifying.

"You do realise that this will end in one of three ways?" Ma-Ti said quietly, echoing Wheeler's own sentiments.

"Yeah," he said, raising his eyes to Ma-Ti's worried face. "I wanna believe that she might be here — but this whole thing just feels wrong."

"What did Bleak say?" Ma-Ti asked as Wheeler tapped a message out to Deb, hoping she and Cath had enough sense to catch a cab home in his absence. "Or whoever he was. Did he say anything about —"

"Just said he had a package for me," he said, pressing send and pocketing his phone. "I dunno. Told me to get there fast."

"All right."

"You gettin' anything?" he asked.

"No, my friend. Nothing." Ma-Ti passed his finger over his ring, shaking his head. "I am as confused as you are."

"Nice of Gaia to take off like that," he muttered. He let out a heavy breath, steeling himself against the nerves. He was restless, aware that they had no mode of transportation. "Close to midnight. How the hell are we supposed to —"

Ma-Ti clutched his arm as a white light pulsed around them, brightening in intensity, followed by a sharp crack.

And then they were gone.


	50. Chapter 50

Wheeler was distant — had barely said a word since their arrival. Head down, hands shoved deep into his pockets as they made their way along the gravel road.

The factory was visible just up and around the bend; the metal roof emitting an almost fluorescent glow. The sound of crickets were present — chirping loudly, as well as the rampant mosquitos that buzzed around Ma-Ti's head. He swiped them away every now and again, but Wheeler seemed unburdened by them.

"Are you all right?" Ma-Ti asked, watching him with concern.

"No," he muttered, crossing his arms as they approached the bend in the road — their path lit only by moonlight. Two timber posts loomed ahead, marking the beginning of the driveway. "Just wanna get this over with."

"You don't think she'll be here?"

"I needed to come," he said, trying to explain. "But my gut tells me we're bein' played."

"The wind element has returned, Wheeler, we —"

"What if Plunder springs a trap on us? Or maybe it's not Plunder at all?" Wheeler kicked a rock, sending it skittering out of sight.

"Let us worry about that later —"

"What if we find her body, Ma-Ti?"

Ma-Ti considered his words for a moment. "I am not ready for that either, but —"

"What if she's not here and I gotta walk away without her for the second time?" Wheeler sighed, eyeing the building in front. "Hard to move on when it's all dragged out in the open again, you know."

"Is that why you didn't meet us last month?" Ma-Ti asked, pressing carefully. Wheeler flinched, and Ma-Ti knew he'd touched a nerve. "After Linka's memorial? We missed you."

"Had other stuff on," he said quietly, keeping his eyes lowered. "You know how it is."

"Gi was upset," he said. "Didn't take it well."

"I'm not responsible for Gi's god-damn wellbeing," Wheeler snapped. He quickened his pace and Ma-Ti struggled to keep up with him. "Barely functioning myself."

"You know that's not what I meant," Ma-Ti said. "It is going to take time to —"

"Yeah, so everyone keeps tellin' me," he said bitterly.

"There is no time limit on grief, Wheeler. You need to allow yourself to —"

"Allow myself to what?" Wheeler rounded on him angrily. "Carry on like nothin' happened? Go back to partying my life away like my deadbeat friends? Allow my fuckin' ex-girlfriend to snake her way back into my life when she doesn't even fall into the same stratosphere as the only girl who I ever…"

He halted by the side of the road, fists clenched and breathing heavily. Ma-Ti could sense the waves of frustration flowing.

"None of us are coping, Wheeler," he said quietly. "We just show it in different ways."

"Just want her back," he said, rubbing his face tiredly. He let out a heavy breath, raising his eyes to the stars above. "Miss her so bad."

"I know."

"Never told her," he said despairingly. "I never even…"

"Wheeler," Ma-Ti said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. " _I know_."

"I'll never forgive myself."

"Look," Ma-Ti said gently. "At the very least, we may get some answers or some information. Something that may help explain what happened."

"Yeah." Wheeler nodded, shaking himself slightly. "Damn it."

"Come," he said, pressing onwards and motioning for Wheeler to follow. "Let us get this over with."

"Yeah," Wheeler breathed. He fell into step beside Ma-Ti, passing through the front gates and making their way towards the shadowy buildings ahead.

* * *

"Place is in desperate need of some serious dustin'," Wheeler muttered, running his finger through the thick layer of grime coating the window sills of the factory floor. "Shit everywhere. Can't believe people have to work in this."

"Don't look at me," Ma-Ti said. "Spring cleaning wasn't exactly on my to-do list when I went to bed tonight."

"Neither was breakin' and enterin'."

"True."

Wheeler poked around the work stations, pushing scraps of fabric aside. Orderly rows of tables stretched up and down the concrete floor, separated by narrow aisles. The tables were covered in fabric, thread spools and antiquated sewing machines. A few were electric but most were operated by pedal power.

"Sweat shop?" Ma-Ti rifled through the garment racks, pulling out an assortment of t-shirts and dresses on wire hangers. "Plunder will be paying them in peanuts, no doubt."

"Don't even know where to start looking," Wheeler complained. He backed up against the wall, lowering his ring which was currently the only source of light now available to them. Turning on the factory lights would alert people to their arrival. "No one's even —"

"Heart."

Ma-Ti closed his eyes, rubbing his ring with the pad of his thumb; seeming to scan whatever otherworldly frequencies that were available to him.

"Gettin' any —"

"It is difficult," Ma-Ti said, frowning. He spun around slowly, scratching his head and looking confused. "I am not… I cannot tune in on her specifically, but there is something —"

"Like a damn radio —"

"Oh God," Ma-Ti whispered, taking a startled step back. He blinked several times, gazing down at his ring in wonder. "Blue?"

"Huh?"

"Blue," he said. Ma-Ti raised his eyes to Wheeler; a joyous smile spreading across his face. "For the first time since… It's been so long since I —"

"Spit it out, Ma-Ti."

"I think she's here."

The hairs on the back of Wheeler's neck stood on end. The adrenaline was already pumping and he straightened, listening intently.

Ma-Ti hurried down the aisle and through the door in which they'd entered, muttering under his breath. Wheeler followed close behind, watching him pause every now and then — rubbing his ring as if to recalibrate his thoughts.

They spilled out into the night, heading towards the boundary fence line. A copse of trees was nearby and they sprinted onward, wanting to avoid being out in the open. Barbed wire separated them from the cotton crops, stretching as far as the eye could see. Ma-Ti stopped, steadying himself against a gnarled trunk; refocusing his attention on his ring.

"Can you —"

"Shh."

The suspense was killing him. "Don't shush me."

Ma-Ti threw him a look. "Just give me a moment."

Wheeler rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest and resisting the urge to shake him.

The crickets were almost deafening, croaking loudly in the branches above them. The moonlight was casting elongated shadows, creating an almost eerie atmosphere.

A noise sounded from nearby, and Wheeler ducked behind a tree just as the dark outline of a man appeared from one of the buildings. The figure wandered towards the main factory they'd just vacated, swinging his weapon idly.

Another appeared. Wheeler squinted, watching a red glow emanate from near the second guard's mouth. A cigarette was being lit and he briefly considered giving the guy a helping hand — albeit on a much larger scale.

"Don't even think about it," Ma-Ti warned.

"Dude, for God's sake," he said. "Is she here or not?"

"I can't lock onto her," he complained. "Usually I can focus in on each of you, but her energy is scattered. Maybe that is why Gaia couldn't —"

"Bunch of pansies gonna stand there whinin' all night?"

Ma-Ti yelped in fright, and Wheeler whirled around. A tall silhouette stood at the edge of the trees. His face was in shadow and Wheeler stepped forward, raising his ring.

"Put ya goddamn ring down," the voice hissed. "I'm the least of your fuckin' problems right now."

"Says who?"

"Says the five assholes on night patrol over there with semi-automatic machine guns."

Wheeler lowered his ring, stunned to see the stranger turn and hobble away. The man stayed close to the fence line, hunched over and moving slowly as if in pain.

"You idiots comin'?

Wheeler glanced at Ma-Ti, who looked just as surprised as he did. They hurried to catch up, keeping the mystery man in sight just in case he tried anything.

Wheeler's mouth was dry. Nerves had set in. "Is it Bleak?" he said softly.

Ma-Ti shrugged. "No idea," he whispered back. "I have tried… I cannot tell."

"Convenient," Wheeler said, leaning in to be heard. "Picked a great time to lose that telepathy, Ma-Ti."

"I don't think it has anything to do with —"

"Just sayin' —"

"Shut the fuck up," an annoyed voice floated back, and Wheeler abruptly closed his mouth.

They criss-crossed their way around various sheds and crop machinery lying about. A barn loomed ahead and Wheeler's eyes bored into the back of the unknown man's head as he swung open the heavy door and slipped inside; still trying to get a read on him.

Wheeler and Ma-Ti followed. There was a musty smell in the air, dust long-since settled.

"You can light your ring now, lug-nuts."

Wheeler flicked his finger over the stone, illuminating the way. Timber boards creaked under his feet and he made a mental note not to ignite his ring any further, or else the whole structure was at risk of going up in flames — with them in it.

"Spotted you two morons on the security feed," the man said, squeezing through large bags of cotton as Wheeler followed. "Why don't you announce your arrival with a god-damn marchin' band next time?"

"Maybe we will," Wheeler shot back. "Why the hell did you —"

The man halted suddenly, doubling over and groaning like he was in pain. His bald head glowed by the light of the ring, and Wheeler inched forward, circling him slowly.

He straightened, and for the first time Wheeler caught a glimpse of him. Haggard, bearded face and piercing eyes — his once-muscular frame whittled down.

He was a shadow of his former self.

"Holy shit," Wheeler gasped. "Oh fuck, Ma-Ti, it's —"

"Feel wrecked," Argos Bleak said, wincing in pain. He sagged against a timber beam, barely able to hold himself up. "Can barely keep my god-damn eyes open. Doesn't stop the boss from —"

"Where is she?" Wheeler bellowed, striding forward and shoving him hard. The back of Bleak's head hit the beam and he gasped, wrenching away, but Wheeler pressed on, grabbing Bleak by the throat and slamming him again. "Tell me if she's —"

"Is Linka here?" Ma-Ti's voice joined his own, urgent now. "How did —"

"Had to move her," Bleak said. He slid down to the floor in a heap, gesturing towards a ladder that led to the loft. "Guards were gettin' antsy around her."

"Is she here?" Ma-Ti repeated. "Where have you —"

Bleak's voice echoed in response but Wheeler was already gone. He dragged himself up the ladder two rungs at a time until he was eye-level with the loft floor.

A darkened mass lay in the furtherest corner, just under the window. Tangled hair and a small hand lying palm-up, extended in his direction — almost as if beckoning to him. The rest was hidden behind old canvas bags and discarded farming equipment.

He hauled himself up and over, pushing himself to his feet and scrambling towards her. That hand again, closer now. So dainty, just as he remembered it. Fingers curling and twitching slightly as he finally reached her.

"Jesus," he croaked, dropping to his knees beside her. Tears of relief slipped down his cheeks and he wiped them away with shaky hands. "Ma-Ti, she's here!"

Linka was lying on her side, draped in an old plaid blanket. Her hair was filthy; tangled with leaves and dried blood, along with other unidentifiable objects. He leaned over her, cupping her cheeks, desperate to rouse her; needing to hear her voice after all this time.

Ma-Ti's worried voice floated up from below. "Is she alright?"

"Ma-Ti, get your ass up here!" he bellowed in response.

He clutched Linka's outstretched hand in his own, threading his fingers through hers carefully. He'd seen those delicate fingers engaged in a variety of seemingly mundane tasks over the years. Clutching a spoon over her breakfast cereal. Turning the pages of whatever book she was engrossed in at the time.

But those hands were dirty and torn and bleeding now. Broken nails. Whatever she'd been through, she'd put up one hell of a fight. He swallowed the panic rising, concentrating on rousing her.

"Wake up, baby." He patted her face frantically, brushing the matted hair out of her eyes. "Linka?"

He hauled her into his lap. She was a dead weight in his arms; limp and unresponsive. Her head lolled against his shoulder as Ma-Ti finally reached them, sinking down beside them, his face reflecting the same bewilderment as Wheeler.

"Oh my God," Ma-Ti murmured. "Oh my—"

"What the hell happened to —"

"We need to go," Ma-Ti said softly, trailing the backs of his fingers against her temple. She was hot to the touch, burning up with fever. "She's not well."

Wheeler nodded, reluctant to relinquish his hold but knowing it was too dangerous to stay any longer. Together they managed to man-handle her limp body down the ladder. Ma-Ti descended first and Wheeler took the brunt of Linka's weight, lowering her into Ma-Ti's waiting arms.

Wheeler's feet finally touched the ground and he turned, glaring at Bleak. Bleak was still in the same position: slumped on the floor and using the beam to lean against.

"Don't suppose you brats —"

"What the fuck happened?" Wheeler exploded, rounding on him angrily. "Where the hell have you —"

"Tired." Bleak shrugged, staring at Linka who was now under Ma-Ti's careful ministrations. "Headaches are gettin' worse. I can't —"

"Tell someone who gives a shit, Bleak!" Wheeler seethed. "You lost your sympathy vote when you bastards ripped her outta my arms!"

"Nearly three months, Bleak," Ma-Ti chimed in. Linka was cradled against his chest, his hand perched protectively across her forehead. "Where have you —"

"Don't remember," he mumbled. "I can't —"

"Don't give me that," Wheeler spat. "You're so full of —"

"I can't fuckin' remember!"

"Where are your buddies?" Wheeler lunged forward, grabbing Bleak by the shirt and hauling him back up to his feet. "Where's Blight and that big sack of —"

"Why don't you —"

"If he touched her, I'll rip his —"

"They're dead!"

Wheeler recoiled. "What?"

"Blight and Kroi are dead?" Ma-Ti said sharply, seeking confirmation.

"Thought you said you don't remember anything —"

"They're dead," Bleak said tiredly, glaring at Wheeler. "They're on ice in a chest freezer in town until the boss can figure out what to do with them."

"Oh my God," Ma-Ti whispered. "What happ —"

"Got a hearin' problem?" he said in a low voice, refusing to meet their eyes now. "I. Don't. Know."

"How did you get my number? You said somethin' about holdin' up your end of —"

"Feet are bad," he said, seeming to not hear the question. "Gave her some meds. She's…"

"She's what?"

"I'm tired," he mumbled.

Wheeler snapped his fingers, trying to bring him back. "How did you know to ring —"

"Just followin' instructions."

"What instructions?" Wheeler snapped, unable to contain the frustration in his voice. He had so many questions. So many holes. Bleak seemed confused and disorientated. It wasn't lost on him that Bleak was looking just as battered and beaten as Linka. "Why are you helpin' us?"

Bleak didn't reply. Wheeler released his shirt, throwing him a look of disgust. He shoved Bleak again; watching the resulting downward slide back down the timber beam.

Wheeler headed back to Ma-Ti and Linka. "We're wastin' our time," he said softly. "He's not gonna give us anything."

"Nothin' to give," Bleak mumbled. His chin lolled against his chest.

"You and I are gonna have a conversation real soon, Bleak," Wheeler said, bending low and lifting Linka back into his arms. Ma-Ti wrapped the blanket around her and they headed back towards the barn doors and the cool night air. "Mark my words."

"Give her this," he said, rummaging around in his pocket. "When she's awake."

Wheeler turned, seeing Bleak toss a paper bag towards them. It hit the floor with a loud  _thunk_ and Ma-Ti hurried forward to retrieve it.

"What is it?"

"I'm guessin' they belong to her." He tipped his head back, closing his eyes and raising his knees to his chest painfully. "Maybe she'll make more sense of 'em than I can."

"What happened to you?" Ma-Ti said softly. "You both look like you've —"

Bleak grunted. His breathing was slow and steady — Wheeler already knew he was asleep.

He readjusted Linka's weight and carried her out, talking to her in hushed, soothing tones as Ma-Ti followed close behind.

* * *

Another flash of light.

A loud pop.

Wheeler stumbled, squinting at the sudden change of location and unprepared for the bright sunlight now beaming down upon them. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare.

Hope Island lay before him. The familiar sound of the waves crashed onto the shore and the peaks of the Crystal Chamber were just visible through the trees.

He glanced down and it was only then that the true extent of Linka's condition became apparent. The shadows of night had masked his vision, but the light here was harsh and unrelenting.

"Jesus, Ma-Ti," he rasped, collapsing onto the sand as he looked her over. Supporting the back of Linka's head within the crook of his arm, his other hand skimmed over her face and throat. Her body was a mottled patchwork of dirt, cuts and bruises. "What the hell happened to her?"

She'd lost some weight. Not a lot, but enough to notice. Her face was pale and waxen — cheekbones more prominent than he remembered, skin covered in insect bites and abrasions.

His face hardened as he looked her over. He sensed Ma-Ti drop down beside them, taking Linka's hand and inspecting a cut running down her palm. A faint groan issued from her lips.

Wheeler's pulse quickened. "Linka, honey — can you hear me?"

No response. He stared at Ma-Ti, still coming to terms with the events of the past hour.

"C'mon, babe, wake up."

"It's deep," Ma-Ti said, still inspecting her palm, prodding her skin gently. "Might need stitches."

"Babe," Wheeler said louder, lowering his mouth to her ear. "Lin, can you hear me?"

Ma-Ti leaned over, turning his attention to her arm and inspecting the misshapen wrist. "Broken? There's a lot of swelling."

"Goddamn," he said in horror, noting the deep contusions around her neck that looked suspiciously like finger marks. "Look at her fuckin' neck, man?"

"Are they bruises?"

"Looks like someone's choked her out," he whispered. He bit his lip, sweeping more hair out of her face and finding more remnants of dried blood in her hairline. "Jesus, Ma-Ti. What the hell?"

"We need to —"

"If fuckin' Bleak laid a hand —"

"We don't know for sure —"

"What the fuck happened to her, Ma-Ti?" he exploded, the repressed anger and frustration finally finding an outlet. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his mouth against the crown of her head, rocking her back and forth. "Looks like she's been through a God-damn war zone!"

Ma-Ti looked completely baffled. He shook his head, still clutching her hand. "I don't know —"

"Look at her," he said, wiping his face briefly. "Sweat's pourin' off her."

"Infection?" Ma-Ti asked, moving down to her ankles and bare feet. "Bleak said something about her—"

"What the hell happened to —"

"Oh God." Ma-Ti looked physically sick. "Her feet are a mess."

"What —"

He pursed his lips, inspecting the damage. "Looks like she's walked through the remains of a plate glass window or something."

"This is insane!" Wheeler repositioned her in his arms, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Long, dark lashes fluttered against pale skin, but her eyes remained closed. "C'mon babe, wake up."

The scent of lavender was suddenly present. Another pair of hands descended. Gaia crouched down beside them, passing her hands over Linka's prone body.

"I don't understand this," she said softly. Gaia's hair draped over Linka's face as she leaned over, inspecting her injuries.

Wheeler laughed bitterly. "None of this is makin' much sense."

"It's strange," Gaia explained, eyeing them with concern. "Her energy is still scattered. She's here... but in a way, she's not."

"Bleak was the same, Gaia," Ma-Ti said, pressing Linka's hand against his chest. "I tried to read him. Almost scrambled, I guess. I do not understand —"

"She has open wounds. Infection has set in."

"Medical kit?" Ma-Ti said, jumping to his feet. "I can —"

"Yes, but the best thing is to get her into the water first," Gaia said. "The salt water will help cleanse —"

"Christ," Wheeler muttered, glancing at Ma-Ti worriedly. He'd surfed and swum enough here to know that tackling the water with even a small scratch could be downright painful. "If she's not awake now, she certainly will be."

"She'll be all right, Wheeler," Gaia said. "Against all odds, she made it home to us."

He rubbed his face tiredly, taking a moment to breathe, still waiting for everything to sink in. The sound of the ocean went a long way towards soothing his nerves.

"I'll bring the others," Gaia said, touching Linka's forehead and smiling down at her peaceful face. "Welcome home, darling. You've been dearly missed."

"Okay," he said with a heavy sigh. "We doin' this?"

"Beach or bay?" Ma-Ti asked, helping to lift Linka into position again as Wheeler got unsteadily to his feet.

"Don't use the bay," Gaia replied, already beginning to fade. "The bacterial content will be higher."

"Alright," Wheeler muttered. He kicked his shoes off and began treading the sand towards the waves. He readjusted her weight, glancing down at Linka's sleeping face as the water started lapping around his ankles. "Looks like we're goin' for a swim, hon."


	51. Chapter 51

The feeling of weightlessness. The calming lull of the water currents swirled around her.

She rose slowly, controlling her ascent. Allowing the swim fins to propel her ever upwards, toward the dreary daylight above; visible even from her current depth.

Gi cleared her regulator. A mass of bubbles escaped as she adjusted her mouth piece. It really was beautiful, here. The water was the only place where she truly felt free.

She squinted, kicking leisurely as she broke the surface. With a final regulator blast for good measure, Gi removed the mouthpiece and glanced around, treading water to keep herself afloat. It was a drab day on the water, cloudy and overcast. She paddled around for a moment, expecting to see Dae Jung and the research vessel nearby.

She soon spotted the speedboat some distance away, much further than she had anticipated.

"Dae!" she shouted, beginning to swim towards the boat. "Na wass-eo!"

She saw movement. Someone waving. The figure bent over the bow, pulling up the anchor. The engine soon sputtered to life as the speedboat roared in her direction.

Even over the noise of the motor, Gi's stomach rumbled loudly. She was starving. Thoughts of fried chicken and fries were a pleasant distraction until Dae pulled up alongside her.

"I was getting worried!" he yelled, idling the engine as he reached over and hauled her equipment onboard. "That was a lot longer than fifteen minutes!"

"Lost track of time," she replied, handing him her scuba mask and doing her best not to get entangled in the cords. "Why did you move?"

"I didn't!" He grabbed her hand, lifting her into the boat. "Did you mark the colony of —"

"Yeah," she said, breathless as she waved her hand dismissively. The wetsuit was too small, and she lowered the zipper slightly, catching her breath. Wiping the water from her face and hair, she took a seat on one of the padded benches. "It's done."

"I was about to go in after you, Gi. I —"

"I'm fine."

"I warned you. You should be diving with another —"

"Meh." She waved him off again. "You planning on telling the boss?"

"Why bother?" A small smile curled Dae's lips as he dropped into the drivers seat. "The man thinks the sun rises and sets on —"

"I can't help that."

"Golden daughter."

"What can I say?" she said loftily. "Only child syndrome — there's no one to compare me to."

He laughed, and she smiled, towelling her hair dry. Dae flicked some switches and adjusted the sunglasses slipping down his nose, protecting his eyes from the reflection on the water.

"Dad's trying to buy me a car," she said, drumming her fingers on the fibreglass. Gi gazed out towards the ocean beyond, deep in thought. "Says I need to get out more."

"He has a point."

"Hmph." The engine roared to life again and she slumped back in her seat, closing her eyes and enjoying the ride back.

They talked a little on the way home. She was comfortable with him, always had been. Dae Jung had been a mere apprentice when she'd started with the Planeteers. He was now their longest-serving employee. A lovely man. Earnest, hardworking and probably at the top of her parents's list of potential suitors.

Much to her chagrin.

The harbor approached and Dae slowed down, negotiating his way through the heavy traffic on the water. People sightseeing, pleasure cruisers, fishing trawlers and aluminium rust-buckets that really shouldn't have been floating at all.

The wharf was in sight. Gi sighed, resting her chin on her arms as they puttered along. Her father paid a small fortune to lease the rickety timber mooring, but the convenience was undeniable. It certainly beat having to go through the long process of preparing, towing and offloading the boat and equipment on a daily basis.

The motor cut out and they glided in. Gi jumped to her feet, grabbing the rope and leaning over. She tossed the mooring line over the post with well-practiced ease.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah." She nodded to the employees who came scurrying towards them, intent on gathering Gi's tanks and supplies.

"Would you like to go grab something?" He scratched his head, looking somewhat nervous. "With me, I mean?"

His tone was hopeful, and she smiled back, tucking her wet hair behind her ears.

This wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"Maybe another time?"

"Okay." He nodded, giving her a slightly awkward wave before walking away. Hands tucked deep within his pockets, she watched him wander off towards the harbour.

Gi sucked a deep breath in, peeling off the wetsuit using her well-practiced technique — a cross between an elongated bounce and a one-legged shimmy. She pushed the stretchy material down over her thighs until it lay in a wet puddle around her feet.

She stepped aside, shoving the wetsuit into her bag. Throwing a cotton sundress over her bikini, she tossed the bag over her shoulder and headed towards the market.

Her stomach rumbled again, as if reminding her of the task at hand. The marina section closest to the water housed the fresh fish vendors: crates of cod, salmon and mullet: gutted, de-boned and on ice, awaiting purchase. She took a detour away from the fresh seafood area — the smell of cooked fish and spice beckoned.

It had become something of a tradition in the past few weeks — grabbing a bite to eat and heading back to the marina, content to watch the world go by. It gave her time to reflect and she looked forward to any rostered duties that brought her here.

Being around her parents felt cloying. They were worriers by nature. Always had been, especially of late. Heads together, the whispered conversation would hush whenever she entered the room.

Not that it bothered Gi. Nothing much bothered her these days, but she supposed it was a result of the medication. The little white pills she popped every morning had made a world of difference. They had even acquired a nick-name — she called them her 'I-don't-give-a-shit' pills.

Life was becoming bearable and for that she was thankful. The memories were still present, but they were simply  _there_. No longer burdening her to such a degree.

She picked up the pace, intent on beating the lunch-time crowds. She was starving. Gi turned the corner, mouth watering.

The light changed in an instant, in the blink of an eye.

The overcast day suddenly gave way to bright sunshine. She staggered to a stop, raising her hand to her eyes in confusion.

The smell of fish was gone, but so too had the rest of the market. The people were gone, the shanties and street vendors were no longer there.

" _Dodaeche_?" she mumbled, circling around in confusion and trying to account for the sudden change in location.

It was sweltering here. Tropical plants surrounded her; overgrown palms flapping in the breeze. She moved through them quickly, pushing them aside with her hands.

Shouts and loud voices could be heard nearby. She searched for the owners, pushing her lank hair away from her face; already sweating from the cloying humidity.

Through the dense foliage she caught a glimpse of timber — the gabled roofline of a hut that she had passed so many times over the years.

_Hope Island._

The shouts continued and she caught the distant figure of a person bolting towards the beach from the furtherest hut. She squinted, just making out Ma-Ti's form disappearing over the sand dunes, clutching something to his chest.

She tossed her bag aside and started jogging, shoving leaves and ferns aside — and that was when the screaming began. Ear-piercing shrieks of pain and terror.

At that point she broke into a run, legs pumping. Her feet touched sand and she dashed over the dunes, cresting the top and half-stumbling at the sharp descent. The earth moved and her feet gave out under her. She landed on her ass with a yelp, winded.

She groaned, propping herself up and finally taking in the scene in front of her.

Ma-Ti was splashing through the shallows in front of her, yelling at someone already in the water. Her mouth dropped open in shock as she observed Wheeler in the water with a third person.

The source of the ruckus was a woman, and she was out of control — limbs flailing and screeching at the top of her lungs. Pale skin and thick, bedraggled hair trailing in the water. Wheeler's arms were wrapped tightly around the woman's waist and he was struggling to maintain a hold of her.

Wheeler looked up. He locked eyes with Gi but she was frozen in place — still staring at the scene in front of her.

"Wha —"

"GET THE HELL OVER HERE, GI" he bellowed, twisting and dodging an errant fist to the face. "Jesus, she's —"

"Wait, just —" Ma-Ti's voice was softer, but Gi couldn't make out what he was saying, drowned out by the shrieks of broken English and garbled Russian echoing from the water.

Gi gave a strangled cry of recognition. She clapped a hand to her mouth; tears slipping down her cheeks.

_Linka._

"Oh my God," she moaned.

The revelry broke. She was on her feet in an instant, tearing down towards them, past a mass of clothes and bags lying strewn throughout the sand. She dragged herself through the water; diving under the swell and paddling hard against the undercurrent.

It took a few moments to reach them. She surfaced nearby in a hail of droplets. The water was chest high and she yelped again, unprepared as Linka's foot flew too close to her chin for comfort.

"Need to hold her!" Wheeler yelled as Ma-Ti grabbed hold of Linka's ankles. "This is not goin' well."

"What happened?" Gi cried, trying to help steady her, but Linka continued to buck and wrench away; her body twisting and contorting despite their attempts to hold her still. "Oh my God, she's —"

"Goddamn possessed, she's… oh shit —" Wheeler turned his back towards the large wave heading in his direction. It smashed into him and he grunted, nearly getting swept of his feet.

"Linka?" Gi cried, grabbing the delicate fingers currently clawing at Wheeler's face. She pulled them away, clutching them tightly against her chest; doing her best to ignore the shrieking. "How is she here? What happened, I don't —"

Another voice called out from the beach and she searched for the owner. Kwame stood in the sand; his hands on his hips and looking just as astonished as she felt. He started running towards them.

"Get towels!" Wheeler bellowed and Kwame changed direction with lightning speed. He disappeared over the dunes as another wave crashed over them. "C'mon, babe. Calm down."

"What happened to her?"

Gi was crying now. She clutched Linka's face in her hands, stroking the matted hair away from her eyes. Slipping a supportive hand under her neck, Gi did her best to keep Linka comfortable as the undercurrent swirled violently around them.

"I think we need to wrap this up," Ma-Ti said, gazing down at Linka worriedly. She seemed to go limp finally. The screaming had stopped, replaced by a high-pitched wheezing sound and Gi wasn't sure which was worse.

They waded through the water, managing to carry her out between the three of them. Wheeler was the first to collapse onto the sand. The momentum caused both Gi and Ma-Ti to tip forward and they fell against him in a heap, with Linka sprawled across their laps.

"Let's not do that again."

"I can't believe she's —"

Ma-Ti slumped tiredly and Gi burrowed into him. "She's a mess."

"What happened?" Gi sobbed, sweeping her eyes over the cuts and bruises on Linka's skin. "Oh my God, look at her! What —"

Wheeler just shook his head. He looked exhausted, slumped over Linka's legs; face lowered as he regained his breath.

Gi hugged Linka tightly, pressing her cheek to her pale forehead. She ran her hands over the embroidered blouse hanging off one shoulder. It was several sizes too large for Linka's small frame. Stark white, contrasting with the ugly black bruises marking her throat.

"Oh my God, look at her throat?" she gasped. The tears were flowing again. She was unable to control them. "What happened to her?"

"We don't know," Ma-Ti said tiredly. "We don't know much at —"

"Who found her? How did she —"

"Bleak," Ma-Ti murmured. He jacked his thumb in Wheeler's direction, still hunched over with his head bowed low. "Bleak rung him."

"Bleak?"

A large beach towel flopped down in front of them. "It is the only one I could find."

Kwame sat down next to Wheeler, looking bewildered. She watched Kwame bend low, seeming to inspect Linka's feet with a worried look on his face, prodding the skin carefully and reaching for the medical kit discarded nearby.

They sat in silence for a while, tucking the towel around Linka's body and allowing the sun to dry them properly. Gi swallowed, staring out at the crystal-clear water, wiping the excess moisture from her face.

"Anyone going to fill me in?" Kwame asked quietly, unrolling a thick white bandage.

Wheeler's response was to flop backwards on the sand. He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out his water-logged cell phone and tossing it aside with with a heavy sigh.

Gi looked down at the shivering body draped across their laps. She tightened her arms around Linka, cuddling her as Ma-Ti began to talk, listening intently as he explained the events of the past few hours.

* * *

The smell of jasmine and salt greeted her. She stirred, struggling to open her eyes. Groaning, she rolled over into her side, doing her best to ignore the persistent throb behind her eyes and within her joints and muscles. A chair creaked nearby and her eyes fluttered open again.

Her telescope was a darkened mass beside her window. The sound of the surf crashing relaxed her. It was comforting.

She cleared her throat, wincing in pain and raising her hand to her neck. Her hand was bound in something — a thick wad of fabric wrapped around her palm.

"Wha —" she croaked, swallowing nervously. She tried again. "What is —"

Her voice was barely there.

"Hi," a voice said softly. "Welcome back, my friend."

A gentle hand descended, resting on her forehead. A face lowered and she could just make out Ma-Ti's face hovering over her. Her bedside lamp switched on and he grinned down at her, looking delighted.

"Why is my hand —" she whispered, gasping in pain and clutching her throat. "Ah,  _bozhe moy_."

Talking was agony. She gave up, raising her bandage and staring at it. She tried to sit up and a wave of dizziness overcame her. She swayed and Ma-Ti gently guided her back down again.

"Don't try to get up, Linka," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," she rasped. "Feel weak."

"I'll be back," he promised, rising to his feet and hurrying away. She slumped back against the pillows, raising her knees painfully. Everything hurt. Her arms, her legs, her skin. Even breathing caused her discomfort.

Ma-Ti soon returned with some fruit and water. He placed it on the bedside table, and Linka glanced up as Gi entered close behind him.

"What time is it?" Linka whispered, confused, still holding her throat. Gi wiped tears away, dropping down next to her on the mattress.

"Two in the morning." Gi's arm settled around her shoulders.

"Oh," she replied, leaning back into Gi's tight embrace.

Linka's hair fell over her face as she beckoned towards the water. Ma-Ti passed it to her and she downed the lot in three gulps, soldiering through the discomfort. The pair seemed quiet and fidgety, and Linka's eyes kept flicking nervously towards them.

"Do you remember anything?" Ma-Ti gently pressed.

"Remember what?"

"Anything about what happened?"

Linka shrugged, reaching forward with trembling hands to grab a strawberry. She eyed Wheeler and Kwame as they slipped inside the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Their worried faces seemed to watch her every move. She swallowed self-consciously, grabbing more fruit.

She was starving.

"Linka?"

She flinched. " _Da?_ "

"Do you remember what happened?"

She frowned, staring at the stains spreading on the crisp white bandages from the strawberries. "Something has happened?"

"You were missing for nearly three months, Linka," Kwame said. His hand rested gently on her ankle. "You were gone. We thought you were dead."

"Dead?"

"Do you remember anything?"

" _Nyet,_ " she whispered, staring at her hands and now noticing the bindings on her other wrist. "I do not remember."

"Your wrist was broken," Gi said, touching the bandage gently. "Ma-Ti was able to reset it. You've got a laceration on your palm. Looks like you took a walk through a field of razor blades —"

"What?" Linka whispered. She flexed her toes, feeling a tightness across the heels and the balls of her feet. "I —"

"We found shards of glass. Kwame got most of them out."

"What do you mean?" She was mildly panicked now, staring at the four of them with a sense of mounting hysteria. "I do not remember —"

"Blight's lab?"

"What?"

She was so confused, unable to make sense of anything; unable to shake the fog that had settled over her brain. Memory and recall were no longer second nature to her. Nothing made sense.

Linka burst into tears. Gi pulled her close, whispering to her in soothing tones.

"I think this can wait until tomorrow," Kwame said, squeezing her ankle before rising to his feet. "You have been through enough."

"Why don't I remember anything?" she sobbed hoarsely. She clutched her throat in pain. "What is wrong with my —"

"Took you swimmin' earlier today," Wheeler said, fiddling with the soft cotton quilt. "You were pretty vocal about it."

"You have some bruising around your throat," Ma-Ti added. "It might —"

"Hurts," she whispered. She tucked her head into Gi's neck, soothed by Gi's hands rubbing her back in slow circles.

Kwame tapped Ma-Ti on the shoulder, indicating towards the door.

"So good to see you, my friend," Kwame said, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. "You were dearly missed."

Ma-Ti touched her face fondly. "We'll let you sleep."

They left. Linka wiped her face, sniffling quietly. The bed lurched as Wheeler resettled himself at the opposite end of the bed. Legs stretched out, he nudged Linka's thighs through the cotton quilt cover, smiling gently at her.

"We missed you," Gi whispered, running her fingers through Linka's hair. "Thought you were dead."

Linka closed her eyes, lulled by the motions.

"Maybe I was."


	52. Chapter 52

Wheeler sat hunched over; elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. The television played in the background at low volume, a re-run of "I Love Lucy." He hadn't turned it on — no one was even watching it. It's presence served as a comforting reminder of how things used to be.

A pair of bandaged feet were propped up on the armrest opposite. Linka was curled up on the couch; her head resting on a pillow over Gi's thighs. She looked peaceful and warm; her freshly-washed hair still damp and bundled in a loose bun, with Gi's fingers stroking back and forth along her scalp. A blanket loosely covered her body.

It had been thirty-six hours since her miraculous return. They were all still in shock — still processing the fact that she was alive and that she was  _here_.

"She's sleepin' a lot."

"Bleak was the same, remember?" Ma-Ti said. "He could barely stand up."

"Where the hell has she been?"

Kwame shrugged, turning his attention to the television. "We may never know."

"Someone has to know," Gi said, stroking Linka's forehead with her fingertips. "Someone —"

"Maybe the same someone who put his goddamn hands around her neck," he seethed. "They're fresh bruises, guys. Someone tried to strangle her —"

"We don't know —"

"For all we know, it could have been Bleak."

"For all we know, Wheeler?" Kwame turned to face him and Wheeler observed for the first time how tired he looked. "We don't know anything, so there is no use —"

"Join the dots, Kwame. Bleak looked like he'd been stabbed. Linka's got cut-marks on her hands. Maybe the blade slipped? Maybe she was fighting him off —"

"Leave it alone, Wheeler."

Wheeler sighed, throwing his head back in frustration.

He'd assumed the answers would be forthcoming, but it wasn't to be. Linka seemed to have no recollection of the events of the past few months. Nothing but confused ramblings and tearful exchanges.

He knew she was just as frustrated as they were. She'd been in a pitiable state when they'd found her. Banged up all to hell and much thinner — too thin. Those curves had lessoned, replaced by sharper angles and hollowed-out cheekbones.

Still beautiful, though. Still took his breath away – enough to elicit those flutterings in the pit of his stomach when she leaned on him, or brushed against him.

More concerning was the fact that even in the few instances that she'd been awake and lucid, he'd noticed a difference. A change in her demeanour. No longer self-assured and confident, she seemed reserved — almost timid. Unable to make even the most basic eye contact with anyone. A newfound fragility.

It broke his heart.

She'd twitched and sobbed in her sleep last night, thrashing around violently — to the point that they'd made the decision to keep her close, rather than abandoning her to the isolation of her hut.

It was just easier — both for her and for them.

He was worried sick about her, desperate to talk; to have time alone with her, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself. He had no choice but to share Linka with three others — all of whom were unwilling to take their eyes of her. Just wanting to bask in her presence.

"What's the plan?" Ma-Ti asked. "Are we staying? Are we returning?"

"I guess that will be a discussion for when she is well."

"What about Mishka?"

"Oh shit," Wheeler whispered. In all the craziness, they'd forgotten about her brother. "God, someone's gonna have to —"

Kwame jumped to his feet, giving them the thumbs up sign. Heading for his hut — presumably to make a long distance phone call.

Gi sighed, settling back and nodding towards the television. "Is anyone actually watching this?"

"Nope."

"Oh well. Looks like we'll end up getting back to eco-missions and jet-lag after all."

"Dumb-ass polluters wont be happy."

"Are they ever happy?" Ma-Ti asked. "I guess it is a conversation we will all need to have."

"About what?"

"About returning."

"I just assumed," Gi said softly, smoothing Linka's hair with her hand. "I guess I thought we'd just…"

Wheeler propped his feet up on the coffee table, stretching his arms above his head. He didn't want to drown in the semantics of the near future. He was barely dealing with the reality of  _now_.

"Need to get supplies," Ma-Ti said. "Kwame's overgrown fruit and vegetable patch will only do us for so long."

"Got some cuttin' back to do," Wheeler said. "Place is like a jungle, now."

"Greedly has a nice little landscaping enterprise going, according to the newspapers," Gi said, unable to hide a grin. "Maybe you could give him a call?"

"Screw that," Wheeler said darkly.

"Did your friends get home okay?

"No idea," he said. "Stupid phone took an unexpected swim yesterday. Couldn't call 'em."

"Oh God," Gi muttered. She gently extracted herself; manoeuvring Linka's head gently back onto the pillow. She hurried away, pulling out her own cell phone. "I gotta call my parents."

Wheeler attempted to give her a kick up the bum as she moved past. Gi dodged it easily, slapping him across the thigh. A small smile curled her lips as she left.

He rubbed his face tiredly. The events of the past day were catching up with him. He sunk back, quite content to remain in the armchair for the night, ignoring Lucile Ball and her rasping voice coming from the television.

His gaze drifted towards Linka, surprised to see that her eyes were open. She blinked sleepily, clutching the pillow against her cheek and watching him. Slender fingers flexed against the pillow and she raised herself slightly; her bun flopping forward as she tried to push herself up.

"You all right?" he asked, on his feet and crossing the distance between them in a few strides. Crouching down, he helped her into a sitting position. "You need —"

"Bathroom," she said softly.

"All righty."

She hooked an arm across his shoulders as he helped lift her up. She gasped in pain as her feet touched the floor, tightening her grip around his neck. He lifted her further until she was perched against his hip. Together they lumbered towards the toilet; her legs swaying idly beneath her.

He waited outside, leaning against the wall. Eventually she hobbled out, gritting her teeth and pressing all her weight on her heels — the only area of her feet that hadn't sustained too much damage.

"C'mere."

"It is fine," she rasped, waving her hand. "I think my feet are —"

"Stubborn mule."

"Shut up, Yank —"

"Ah, cram it, toots."

He picked her up anyway, carrying her back to the couch and ignoring the grumbling. Lowering her back onto the makeshift bed, he gave her a wry smile and moved to leave but she gripped his hand. He hesitated; eyes briefly skimming the plaster hiding the broken nails and skin he knew to be beneath.

"Need somethin' el —"

Linka shook her head, moving her pillow aside and vacating the spot next to her. He sat down, watching her curl up — resting her head on his lap, just as she had with Gi. She snuggled down with a tired sigh up as he repositioned the blanket carefully around her.

He couldn't help himself. The bruises were still there — stark against her pale skin. He ran his index finger along the line of her throat, tracing the purple discolouration. Goose pimples broke out where his touch had lingered. She shivered, flexing her fingers; her eyes blinking sleepily.

That flare of anger rose again at what had been done to her. His fingers stroked slowly through her hair; smoothing the loose tendrils that had escaped her bun. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Who did that to you, baby?"

"I do not know."

"You'd tell me if you did, though?"

" _Da_ ," she whispered. "I do not remember."

He squeezed her shoulder, feeling her hand settle against his stomach.

Ma-Ti was snoring softly. Kwame and Gi hadn't returned and Wheeler assumed they'd gone to bed. He slumped back, closing his eyes; allowing the laughter from the TV sitcom audience and Linka's steady breathing help to lull him to sleep.

* * *

"I am guessing you have not done a supply run for some time?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Linka sat perched at the counter, her chin in her hands and watching Gi bustle around the kitchen. She ran a finger over the timber, through the layer of dust that had accumulated. Today was the first opportunity she'd had to get up and around — in a manner of speaking. Feeling strong enough to spend the morning sitting on the sand in the warm sun, content to watch Ma-Ti and Gi swim.

She'd politely rejected their offer to help her into the waves, not wanting to face the salt-water just yet. Her wounds were still healing, but she was beginning to feel half-human again. Her strength was returning, as was her determination.

Her memory had unfortunately remained where it was, trapped in the vacuum of time lost. The lack of knowledge weighed heavily on her, as did the constant throb around her temple. She drew wavy lines on the dusty surface, watching Gi rifling through the cupboards for something to eat and drink.

"There is not much here?"

"Ah!" Gi exclaimed, finding a couple of errant tea bags. "Nope. Not much left. How's your headache?"

"Still there," she said tiredly, rubbing her forehead and eyeing the pantry. "Is there any paracet —"

"Nope."

" _Dyermo,_ " she muttered.

Gi clonked two steaming mugs down, smiling apologetically at Linka. "No milk, either. It's out-of-date strawberry and rooibos tea, I'm afraid."

Linka nodded, clutching the mug in her hands and watching the steam rise. At this point, she'd take anything. " _Spasiba._ "

"Probably better for your throat, anyway." Gi leaned over, pulling the scarf aside and wincing at the sight that greeted her.

Linka was under no illusions about what lay beneath. She'd seen them for herself in the mirror now, aware that the fading fingermarks on her skin — and the burst blood vessels in her eyes — led to only one conclusion.

Someone had attempted to strangle her — and yet she had no memory of it. But she knew (and had seen) enough to want to hide the evidence, embarrassed and self-conscious by the bruising that remained.

Frustrated, too at the complete blanks in her memory. Frustrated at the lack of answers or explanations. Nothing was coming up, no matter how hard she delved. No matter how many questions she was asked, she had nothing to give them — or herself.

She rubbed her forehead, sipping her tea and listening to Gi's pleasant voice chattering away in the background.

"Don't even have any clothes here," she complained, staring down at the lacy sundress she was still wearing two days later. "Still damp from washing —"

"Clothes?" Linka frowned, not understanding. "Where are your clothes?"

"Took them home," she said. "We all did, all our personal stuff. My old wardrobe at home is a good deal smaller, which kinda —"

"I do not understand. Why would you —"

"No use leaving them here, since —" Gi stared for a moment, cottoning on to reason for Linka's confusion. "Oh God… we went home, Lin."

"What?" Linka's blood ran cold. She dropped her mug to the counter, sloshing tea over the surface. "You all went home?"

Gi's mouth opened and closed a few times. "We left," she finally whispered, her cheeks aflame. "We packed up and left Hope Island, Lin. Took our belongings with us. It was —"

"Why?"

"You never made it out of Blight's lab," she said, trying to explain and turning redder by the minute. "Kwame and I saw you disappear. The lab exploded."

"You all left the Planeteers?" Linka was dumbfounded. In all honesty, the thought hadn't even occurred to her.

"No one was willing to continue on without you."

"Oh God, I had not even realised —"

"I'm so sorry, Lin. I know this must be —"

"Ten weeks, you said?"

"Yeah."

She blew a harsh breath outwards, rubbing her bandaged wrist. The remnants of mosquito marks were still present on her skin, dotting her arms like a random patchwork. They were no longer bothering her, but it was small comfort knowing she was unable to dredge up the circumstances behind them.

"Where was I? What happened to me?"

"I don't know." Gi shook her head miserably. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"It is…" Her face tightened, trying to draw forth something. "I remember Alaska."

"Do you remember the compound in Vegas?"

"I remember Sludge's computer. I remember MAL."

"Do you remember going out to —"

"I think I…" Linka's face tightened as she tried to recall the sketchy details. "Ma-Ti was shot?"

Yeah," she said, clutching her hand and careful not to disturb the fresh bandage. "We think — I mean we assumed that Blight had been after you all along. You were the target. Bleak and a new guy — Krud, or something? Big, ugly dude. They dragged you away."

"Oh?"

"Weird looking machine and a big silver wobbly hole on the floor. All four of you just disappeared. No trace. Explosion destroyed the room and the rest of the equipment."

"Really?"

"There was even a public memorial," Gi said, squeezing Linka's fingers. "They were talking about dedicating a statue."

"A statue?"

"Hate to break it to you," Gi said, smiling through the tears. "Don't think you're gonna get one now."

A bubble of laughter escaped Linka's lips. "Looks like my legacy will have to be put on hold."

"How disappointing for you," she laughed, embracing her awkwardly from their position on the stools. "Missed you so much."

"I am sure I missed you too," she breathed. "Three months of limbo."

"It's been three months of hell."

Linka sipped her tea with trembling hands, processing this new information.

"First couple of weeks were really bad," Gi said softly, wiping her eyes quickly. She let out a heavy breath, glancing at Linka and touching the scarf wrapped loosely around Linka's neck. "Nothing's coming back to you about your time —?"

"I don't remember anything." Linka's gaze settled on the boys who were in the process of cutting the foliage back outdoors; an attempt at making the place liveable again. "You have had to move on without me?"

"Didn't want to," Gi said, her voice rising slightly, as if feeling the need to justify herself. "Didn't have much of a choice."

" _Nyet_ ," Linka said quickly, wanting Gi to understand. "That is not what I meant. You obviously left Hope Island. Left the Planeteers?"

"Yeah," Gi said cautiously. "We —"

"You started new lives without me. New jobs? New living arrangements?"

"Yeah."

"What has everyone been doing?" She bit her lip. This conversation was bordering on surreal. "What did you all —"

"I went home. Back into research and marine study with my parents."

"All right." Linka flicked her gaze to the boys working outside. "What about —"

"Kwame was offered a position in landscaping near Johannesburg, I think. Ma-Ti went back to his village."

"And Wheeler?"

Linka propped her chin in her good palm, twisting and watching Wheeler's head bobbing past the window. He was bare-chested; sweat glistening in the heat, hair mussed up and flattened into place by a New York Yankees cap. His Brooklyn twang resonated over the others as they talked back and forth.

"Don't know, in all honesty."

Linka arched an eyebrow, surprised. "Why don't —"

"He was pretty cut up," she said, lowering her voice. "I know he was back with his parents for a few weeks, but Kwame said that didn't last. Not really sure."

"Oh."

Gi shrugged. "It is what it is."

"What if you or they do not wish to remain?" she whispered, motioning towards the others and wiping tears away with the back of her bandage. "It is not fair to expect you all to drop everything and return when you have established —"

"Are you serious?" Gi looked gobsmacked. "You —"

"Three months is a long time," she said, pushing her hair back from her face and slumping in her chair. Her knees bumped Gi's. "I… oh, I do not know. I am so confused. It does not seem real."

"I know." Gi smiled reassuringly, rubbing her shoulder. "I can assure you, it's been very real for us."

Linka nodded, watching Ma-Ti pushing a wheelbarrow across her line of sight. He waved, giving her a small smile and she raised her bandaged hand in return.

"You don't understand," Gi said softly. "Our world literally stopped. We thought you were dead. The Planeteers fell apart. Ma-Ti struggled. Could barely get a word out of Kwame. Refused to talk about it. Blamed himself. Wheeler was a complete mess, shut himself off from the rest of us."

"I am so sorry," Linka whispered, leaning forward and resting her forehead against Gi's. "I had no idea."

"There's no Planeteers without you," she said, smiling through her tears. "You're our backbone. You're the voice of reason. You tie us all together."

"I am feeling anything but together right now," she lamented. "I feel like I am missing so many links in the chain —"

Gi's eyes widened. She snapped her fingers, hopping off the stool and dashing away from the kitchen.

Linka sat quietly, unsure what was going on. She wasn't in a position to follow Gi, needing constant help from one of the boys to move from place to place. She sipped her tea instead, watching Kwame standing just outside the window — rake in hand and talking to Ma-Ti.

Hurried footsteps returned. Linka looked up as Gi dashed in, holding a small, crumpled bag.

"Here."

"What is it?" Linka reached for it. "What —"

She opened the bag and peeked inside, pulling out an assortment of weird odds and ends. It was a thin, chain necklace that caught her eye, however. Old and rusted, discoloured. A pretty 'belcher' type clasp connected the ends and she ran her thumb over it, intrigued.

"Bleak gave it to Wheeler and Ma-Ti just after they found you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said. "I guess Bleak assumed they belonged to you."

"Really?"

"Probably stole it."

"I do not recognise it," she said, turning the chain over in her hands. "Or at least, I do not remember…"

"Maybe it'll come with time."

"I hope so."

"So glad you're back, Lin," she whispered, pressing a kiss to Linka's cheek. "You were missed. More than you'll ever know."


	53. Chapter 53

"Off the ground, idiot," Plunder sniped over his shoulder. "You're dragging ten-thousand dollars worth of Italian leather."

Bleak muttered something under his breath, lifting the heavy luggage and increasing his stride to keep up with his employer. They walked quickly through the busy airport, negotiating their way through the baggage claim and heading towards the border check area.

The lines were moderate. Bleak followed Plunder to the US nationals section; dumping the bags and folding his arms while the the boss-man barked orders into his cell phone. The chain-link barriers held signs that were very clear regarding the use of technology whilst waiting in customs, but Looten Plunder had never been one to follow rules.

The man just couldn't give a damn.

"Just sign the damn document! Forge my name if you have to. I need it sent by yesterday," Plunder barked. "No, it can't wait! I'll rip your damn throat out if you even think of —"

Bleak shoved him and Plunder glared back, cupping his hand over the receiver. "What the hell are —"

He indicated towards the people in front — the line had moved. Plunder huffed, continuing his phone call and moving forwards.

With his back turned, Plunder's shiny new luggage was dragged forward. Bleak dumped the handles, glancing around. The flight had been a relatively short one. He'd gotten a few decent hours sleep — mainly due to flying cattle-class while the boss relaxed in first-class luxury.

He didn't mind. At least he got time to himself.

Things had always been that way. Bleak was simply a means to an end when it came to Plunder. There was no loyalty there — never had been. Bleak was an enforcer. A hired thug, capable of carrying out orders with deadly efficiency. He served a purpose, but even after all this time, it had never been an arrangement with personal attachments. Never a beer after work or amiable back-slapping. No weekend barbecues or golf games. No shared jokes or prowling bars together for women.

Not so much as a 'please', or a 'thank you' for services rendered. His only consolation were the little white envelopes handed to him after each job. Strictly off the books, the wads of cash were always generous.

"Don't you fucking tell me how to close the sale! I've been trading property since before you were an itch in your daddy's pants, you dumb —"

Bleak yawned, tuning out. Plunder never 'talked' on the phone. He barked, ordered and generally sent the recipients running for cover.

"Stupid," he said sharply, snapping the phone shut. "That's the third time now that Selfridge has tried to pull a deal out from under me."

Bleak grunted in response.

"Might have a new job for you," he said in a low voice.

"Uh huh."

"Getting out of hand."

"Want him to disappear?" Bleak asked. "Accident?"

"I'm sure you're capable of surprising me," Plunder said smoothly. He ran a hand across his face, watching an attractive blonde approach the customs desk in front of him. "Let me think about it. May be too many loose ends that are capable of coming back to bite me in the ass."

"Mmm hmm."

"Speaking of disappearing — any news on our missing guest?"

"Nope."

"Disappointing." Plunder's eye twitched. He'd been furious to discover Blondie missing the next day. Bleak had maintained his usual sullen disposition as the boss had wrecked havoc through the factory. "Reckon she had help from her pals, or one of the workers?"

"Dunno."

"Security system been replaced?"

"Yeah."

"Little punks destroyed the feed," Plunder mused, flicking the edge of his US passport with perfectly manicured fingers. "Nothing to go on?"

"Nope."

Plunder grunted. "I'll need you to —"

Bleak gestured again towards the customs employee waiting at the spare desk. Plunder straightened, grabbing the luggage roughly from Bleak's hands and striding to the available counter, tossing his passport and arrival card at the attendant impatiently.

Bleak followed, handing over his paperwork and passing through. He tried (and failed) to suppress a smirk as his employer was pulled over to the side for a more thorough search of his bags and clothing. He could hear Plunder's protestations as he was led away.

It happened a lot. He supposed Plunder's passport had been blacklisted, or marked due to his unsavoury international track record.

Bleak took a seat near a duty-free shop, watching Plunder's face turn bright red as he complained about the unfairness and injustice of it all. The surly-faced guards took no notice, tossing the contents of the bags onto a stainless steel counter and rifling through his belongings.

Bleak chuckled, entertained by what he was witnessing.

The headaches were fading. His mind was clearer. He was feeling more like himself again — still sore and a little tired, but better. Didn't stop Plunder from continually grilling him about his whereabouts for the past few months, but the answer was still the same.

He was unable to explain (or justify) his absence. It frustrated him just as much as Plunder.

He sat quietly, eyeing the families browsing the duty-free shopping. With the week he had experienced, Bleak considered buying himself a large bottle of Jack Daniels. Getting rotten, pass-out drunk tonight in the hotel was definitely on the cards. He took a moment to contemplate his options.

_Ah, fuck it._

He strode over, grabbing a bottle and paying cash. Heading back towards the seat, he ignored Plunder's irate voice resonating from nearby.

"God-damn harassment," Plunder spat, meeting him on the way back and dumping his bags at Bleak's feet. "Every fucking time."

"Any dead exotic birds? Usual money laundering?" Bleak stuffed his whiskey into a side pocket. He juggled the bags, hoisting them up as he followed Plunder out. "Diamonds sewn into the lining?"

"Fuck off."

Plunder turned the corner and Bleak made sure to scrape the Italian leather across the exposed brickwork for good measure. Plunder's phone rung and he increased his pace, leaving Bleak trailing behind as they headed towards the meeting area.

Plunder's driver was waiting at arrivals with the usual sign. Allan raised his hand when he saw them and Bleak sighed with relief, tossing one of the bags at the driver's feet. The trio pushed on, heading out the doors and towards the public transport bay.

The cold air hit them. Bleak readjusted the bag, glancing towards the street. Plunder stepped out without looking as Allan hurried along behind him.

Screeching brakes.

A bus halted, honking it's horn; the driver shaking his fist but Plunder paid him no attention. He strode on without a second glance, as if he owned the road, still screaming into the phone as he headed towards the lifts to the multi-story car park.

Bleak remained outside the arrivals doors, however; frozen in place. His face paled as a moment of clarity hit him, something drawn forth from the depths of his subconscious.

He dropped one of Plunder's fancy ten-thousand-dollar-Italian-designer-leather bags onto the filthy pavement, watching the bus turn the corner and disappear in a haze of black smoke.

His eyes flicked towards Plunder's retreating figure. Bleak clenched his hands into fists; oblivious to the steady stream of foot traffic. People bustled and surged around him but he paid them no mind. Another bus approached the terminal and he took a step back — a stunned expression on his weathered face.

"HEY!"

A voice broke through the mental haze and Bleak flinched. Plunder stood on the other side of the road — hands raised in frustration and disbelief.

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, MORON!"

Bleak shook himself, grabbing the bag and taking his time to wander through the traffic; head lowered and lost in thought.

* * *

They'd spent a week on the mainland. It had been a whirlwind of hospital visits, paperwork and tense, emotional reunions with family and friends.

Mishka had broken down, sobbing at her feet. She'd never seen him cry. Not when her parents died, not when their beloved  _babushka_ had passed away peacefully in her sleep. He'd pulled her into his arms and squeezed the breath out of her for almost an hour, unwilling to relinquish his hold.

Kwame had picked her up the next day. It turned out that being assumed dead held a lot of implications of the 'red-tape' variety. Questions galore from suited men and women — more so about Doctor Blight and the compound rather than anything.

She wasn't able to add much.

The debriefing with Gaia had been much less stressful. Gaia had been biding her time, allowing her the opportunity to recover and settle back in before entering her hut. They'd talked for over an hour, and Linka had recognised the way Gaia's eyes had swept over her, lingering around her throat with palpable sorrow.

She knew Gaia was frustrated. She was an all-seeing, all-knowing entity and the mystery of Linka's disappearance was weighing heavily on the Earth spirit's mind. Her condition even more so, but Linka had assured Gaia that she was getting stronger every day.

Movement was easier. Her feet were still a little painful but she could at least hold her weight while walking on them. The cuts and bruises were healing. Her voice had returned. The worst damage that remained was the cut to her palm. She'd been left with some nerve damage but yesterday's day-surgery had hopefully cured that.

Linka sunk onto her bed, thankful to be back on Hope Island again. Her pillows and cushions were just as she'd left them. She busied herself with returning her clothes and possessions to the wardrobe. Many of her things had been returned to Mishka after her disappearance. Linka had diligently brought them back again; thankful that her brother had been sentimental, if not hopeful of her eventual return.

It was late afternoon. Sludge's laptop lay in the same place as she remembered — on her study desk, gathering dust. She remembered the last completed mission. Remembered the discovery of the SAIP file. She recalled a conversation with MAL on the stolen computer, however elements of the subject matter alluded her.

A HP charging cord lay within her bandaged hand; purchased during her time on the mainland. Hobbling across the floor, she dropped down to her knees and fiddled with the port; connecting the cable to the power outlet.

"Do you need anything, Lin —"?"

_Bang._

Linka yelped as her head made contact with the underside of her desk.

"Oh goodness," Ma-Ti exclaimed, rushing forward and helping her up. "Sorry, I didn't even —"

"It is all right," she said as Ma-Ti clutched her arm, guiding her towards the bed. She sat down, rubbing her head and grinning up at him. "I seem to be the queen of mishaps, lately."

Ma-Ti laughed. "I noticed."

She settled back against the cushions, drawing her feet up and reaching for the belcher chain on her bedside table, running it through her fingers. "What can I do for you?"

"Just checking in on you. Do you need any —"

"I am fine," she insisted.

Ma-Ti nodded, slipping his hands inside his pockets and leaning against the window. "Are you sure you are ready to go back to —"

"I just want to feel normal again," she said. "I have been… what is the word? Inactive for too long?"

"Dormant?"

She laughed. "I am not a volcano, Ma-Ti!"

"Wheeler would probably say you have the temperament of one."

"Only when it comes to him!" She grinned, rubbing her thumb over the chain and settling back. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them with a sigh. "I need to get back to work."

"You are looking better, my friend. So much better."

"I am feeling good."

"How is your hand?"

She flexed her fingers, feeling the slight pull from the stitches. "They have given me medication. It is feeling fine."

"Good."

"I am happy to be home."

"Okay." Ma-Ti ran his touch down the smooth metal of her telescope. "Do you ever use this?"

" _Da_ ," she replied. "I have always been interested in astronomy."

"Family heirloom?" he asked. "It looks old."

"It belonged to my father," she said, watching on as he squinted through the lens. "You will not see much at this time of day, Ma-Ti."

"Do you believe in constellations?" Ma-Ti asked, perusing her star charts. "I mean the zodiac? The animals? What are they called?"

"Horoscopes," she said, unable to suppress the eye-roll that followed. "And  _nyet_ , I do not believe in them."

"Why not?"

"I believe in science, not make believe," she said simply. "Astronomical hocus-crocus designed to delude impressionable half-wits into thinking they are not in control of their own destinies." She gave a small huff of disapproval, waving her bandaged palm in the air theatrically. "People spend millions of dollars – "

"Fair enough," he laughed, holding out his hands in defeat. "I am sorry I asked!"

She blushed as she smiled up at him. "We make our own way in life, Ma-Ti. We are responsible for our path. We choose our future."

"You are nothing if not passionate, Linka," he laughed, raising his hand as he left the room. "Give me a yell if you need anything."

"Okay," she said as he closed the door behind him. " _Spasiba._ "

She reached for a magazine, one of many Gi had provided over the past few days but had been too distracted to read.

"Adorable sentiments."

A saccharine voice floated over from the desk and she glanced up, unsurprised to hear MAL's voice.

"What sentiments?"

"Oh, I don't know," MAL replied. "All of that 'being in control of your destiny' vomit-inducing clap-trap."

"Vomit-inducing clap-trap?" she said, wincing as she rose to her feet and returned to the desk. Dropping into the chair, she raised the cover, blinking at the brightness conveyed by MAL's glowing green face. "So poetic, MAL."

"I should consider writing for Hallmark," he said blandly, looking Linka over. "You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I was hoping we might talk," she said, clearing her throat nervously. "I have some quest —"

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Linka sat back, staring at the screen and unsure how to proceed. "How do you —"

"Accessed online newspaper articles. Medical records. Bank accounts. Four went in — only two appear to have returned."

"Went into what?" she whispered, her heart skipping a beat.

"Is she dead?"

Linka bit her lip. " _Da_."

"How?"

"I do not know."

"Hmph," he said, rolling his luminescent eyes. "There's that vomit-inducing clap-trap rearing it's ugly head again."

"I do not know," she assured him. "Ma-Ti said that her body was being stored somewhere downtown."

A beat passed. "Did she suffer?"

Linka shook her head, frustrated. She simply didn't have the answers for him. "I do not remember anything."

"She was brilliant, you know," he said softly. "Built me from the ground up. Started when she was seventeen, back when a single computer took up an entire room."

"Oh?"

"Her life's work. She was devoted to me."

"Okay."

"That silly girl." MAL lowered his head, tutting softly. "I guess the appropriate emotion is sadness, right now."

"I guess."

"Were you successful?"

"Successful in what?"

"It was a mistake, you know."

Linka leaned forward, needing clarification. "What was a mistake?"

"The technology."

"At Blight's lab?"

"That pony-tailed imbecile had requested a straight hop, but the test run data suggested a second branch, if you will. Barbara didn't have the heart to tell him."

"What?" The revelation floored her. "I —"

"There were no guarantees on the outcome once the first time jump had been achieved. Lottery numbers, stock exchange shares —"

Linka listened in mounting horror, touching her throat self consciously. "MAL, what are you —"

"— and any information brought back would directly influence the second timeline, not ours. Small variations would exist as a result of any meddling. The whole point of Plunder's request became invalid."

Linka's jaw hung open. "MAL, what are you —"

"Did she suffer?" he asked again. "How did she —"

Linka gritted her teeth. "I have already told you, I do not re —"

"Stupid, Barbara," he said bitterly. "I warned her. Surprised any of you made it back at all."

"Back from where," she cried, resisting the urge to shake him. "Where did we go? MAL, I have no memory of anything that —"

"Eleven years, silly girl," he said. "You've been hopping through time — like a modern-day traveller from a H.G. Wells novel. Making history."

She sat staring at the screen, wiping her mouth with the back of her shaking hand. "Time-hopping?"

"Yes."

"We went through time?"

"Eleven years into the future. You were summoned."

"Summoned by who? I do not under —"

"Wait," MAL instructed. His face minimised to a smaller screen as dialogue boxes opened. Lines of coding appeared. "Ugh. We have company."

"What?"

"Our conversation has a third pair of ears," he said with a resigned sigh. "Time to sign off."

"Someone is listening in?"

"I've had cowboys trying to break my encryptions ever since you all went through the portal," he said. "Government, I assume. Probably military."

"Who?" she said desperately, gripping the monitor as if trying to hold him there for longer. "Why? Is it to do with SAIP? The program we found on this —"

"They're hacking my firewall," he said quietly. The dialogue boxes began to close one-by-one.

"Wait, MAL," she cried as the screen faded to black. "Oh no… no, no, no, come back."

She fumbled with the keyboard, reseting the computer — waiting for the windows screen to boot up. The wallpaper flashed up beneath the icons and Linka barely noticed the swimsuit model leering suggestively in front of her, posing on the beach.

"Come back," she whispered, making the switch to DOS and typing a variety of executable commands but the effort was redundant. "Come on, MAL."

MAL was gone.

" _Dyermo_!" she cried, slamming the laptop shut and sinking back into the seat. She dropped her forehead into her hands in frustration. " _Chert poberi_."

So close. Tidbits of information that stretched credibility. She rubbed her face, staring at the monitor, feeling the overwhelming urge to make contact with someone. The only person who may have the ability and the knowledge to help bridge the gaping holes in her memory.

With trembling fingers, she opened the laptop again, moving the mouse and entering the SAIP directory. A few keystrokes later and she was in, using the platform to negotiate the DMV registry. It took her about ten minutes to find what she was after — perusing licence photos on file until the right one popped up.

She scribbled furiously onto her notepad, cross-referencing the information with other servers, checking that she had the right contact details.

Tossing the pen down, she returned to her bed, falling onto the duvet and curling up on her side. Reaching for the necklace once again.

She closed her eyes, rolling the thin chain between her fingers and contemplating MAL's words until sleep finally took over.


	54. Chapter 54

"Starting to think I should have stayed at the marine center," Gi complained, wiping her forehead. "You could have come back with me — we would have been the most feared research team around."

"Spending our days swimming? Cuddling the ocean's creatures?"

"We could have been somethin' special. The 'dream team'."

"Uh huh."

Gi thrust her chest out; dropping her hand to her hip and striking a pose. "Scientists with brains and sex appeal. The women would wanna be us. Men would wanna be  _with_  us —"

"Ugh," Linka said, making a face. "No, thank you."

"No adoring guys?"

"It is over-rated."

"Sucks to be you," Gi laughed, clapping a filthy hand on Linka's back. "There, there."

Linka waved a dirt-encrusted finger in Gi's direction. "It is a distraction."

"God forbid anyone distract you from your work," she said, grinning and dodging the swipe aimed at her head. "I've spent the past… well, most of the past seven years watching guys get a little  _distracted_ over you."

Linka was indignant. "I do not ask for the attention."

"Not even a month back on the job and nothing's changed." She grinned, wrapping an arm around Linka and squeezing her. "Guys are still lining up."

"Not all guys," she sighed, glancing in Wheeler's direction. "Yankee has been very quiet, lately."

"Yeah," Gi said, following her gaze. "I think he's still coming to terms with everything."

"Perhaps he is distracted, too?" she said with a small smile. She straightened, watching him fondly as he dragged splintered logs towards the awaiting trucks. "Distracted by the thought of food, no doubt."

"Speaking of distracted," Gi said quietly, nodding in the direction of the Parks and Recreation vehicles. "That guy hasn't stopped staring at you since we —"

"He is welcome to stare. I am welcome to ignore him."

"Strapping young man."

"Did you know the female praying mantis allows the male to penetrate her — before she bites his head off?"

"Really?

" _Da_ ," Linka said, helping Gi lift debris with some assistance from her ring. "Black widow spiders too."

"You don't say?"

"Uh huh."

"I've really missed our weird conversations," Gi sighed.

"I can be weirder."

"Try me."

"Water can boil — and freeze — at the same time."

"Really?"

" _Da_ ," she replied.

"I should probably know that," she mused.

Linka stood upright, arching backwards in an effort to iron out the kinks in her muscles and spine. "I am —"

"I am calling a lunch break."

Kwame's voice came from behind them. He looked weary, covered in dirt and sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead, staring at the damage inflicted by the hurricane.

"Thank God," Gi muttered. "About to pass out."

They followed Kwame towards the volunteer tent, collecting Ma-Ti and Wheeler along the way. A table had been set up for the locals and out-of-state helpers; already being utilised by hungry men and women.

Linka headed to the makeshift bathroom to clean up. Washing her hands and splashing water on her face in an effort to cool down. She leaned forward, touching her throat. The marks were now completely gone. Her hand contained nothing but a faint red line; slightly puffy but nonetheless healed.

The door swung open as she stepped out, heading towards the table laden with sandwiches and cold drinks. She grabbed a plate, moving down the line and waiting her turn.

"Good selection."

She glanced up, seeing the same 'strapping young man' from earlier standing behind her. His chiseled face grinned down at her and she nodded mutely before turning her attention back to the line in front.

"It was great of you guys to come and help," he said, moving forward as the line progressed. "The winds here got to around a category three last night."

"Really?"

"It's an honor to have you here."

She shrugged, eyeing the sandwiches. "It is our job."

"Lost some wildlife, I'm afraid."

"Oh," she replied. She reached forward, loading some food and fresh fruit onto her plate. "I am sorry to hear that."

He continued talking as Linka looked him over nervously. He was well built; his broad chest visible through the expensive polo shirt he was wearing. An engaging smile and a confident manner. She nodded, only half listening as she grabbed a bottle of water, intent on joining the others who were spread out across the floor, propped against the far wall.

Giving him a polite smile, she headed towards Gi — who already stuffing her face and waggling her eyebrows.

 _What?_  Linka mouthed; half stumbling when she realised the friendly man from the lunch line was still close behind her. " _Bozhe moy,_ " she muttered under her breath.

The man plonked himself down unannounced, patting the spot beside him but she stayed on her feet, uncertain. Just wanting to eat her lunch in peace.

It took her all of two seconds to make a strategic decision. She dropped to her knees, reaching for the plate balanced across Wheeler's lap and placing it beside him.

"Hey!" he started, looking at her in surprise. "I'm eatin' that, Lin —"

She wriggled herself back until she was positioned between his legs. Grabbing the remains of his sandwich, she twisted and offered it to him with a wide, apologetic smile.

"Here you are,  _dorogoy,"_ she said sweetly.

"Thank you,  _sweetheart_ ," Wheeler deadpanned.

She munched on her sandwich, noticing a shadow of disappointment flicker across the stranger's face. Ma-Ti soon engaged their guest in conversation, discussing the clean-up effort and the volunteers who had given up their time to be here.

Wheeler's hand rested casually on her lower thigh. She leaned back against his chest, finishing her food and doing her best to drown out the constant murmur of conversation going on around the room. Her eyes closed, feeling comfortable and relaxed even amongst the one-hundred odd strangers in the room.

His mouth eventually brushed her cheek and she instinctively tilted her head towards him.

"Yogi Bear not doin' it for you?"

Her eyes flew open; her mouth suddenly devoid of moisture. "What?"

Wheeler nodded towards polo-wearing smooth talker. "Guy's a park ranger, apparently. He's the one who called us in."

_Brett._

_Brayden._

_Chad._

Linka stared hard, unsure why this information had prompted such a physiological response. She clutched Wheeler's hand tightly.

"He is a park ranger?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "You all right, babe?"

" _Da_ ," she whispered. "Just deja vu."

_Brad._

"Deja vu?" Wheeler grabbed her water bottle from her hand, taking a few long swigs from it. "Thought you didn't believe in any of that crap?"

"I don't," she said, drawing a shaky breath.

"Ohhhh-kay," he said.

"Mmm."

"You sure you're all right? You've gone all pale and shit."

She nodded vigorously, leaning forward and stacking the plates, busying herself with tidying up. Keeping herself occupied. She felt Wheeler's hands descend on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched.

"No rest for the wicked," he said, beckoning for Ma-Ti to join him. The boys wandered off to continue their efforts as Linka stared unabashedly in the park ranger's direction, her mouth still ajar.

Eventually the man left, along with Gi who wandered off to assist the boys. Linka got to her feet, sorting the trash into the appropriate containers.

"Are you all right?"

" _Da._ " Linka nodded, scraping food into the compost bin and turning to face Kwame. "Do I not look all right?"

He shrugged. "I have seen you look better. Do you need a —"

"I am fine." She waved her hand dismissively. "How much longer are we —"

"We will stay until sunset, then move on to —"

"Belarus?"

"Yes." Kwame looked unsure, folding his arms and leaning against the food table. "You are sure your information is —"

" _Da_ ," she said. "My source tells me there is an operation underway. A lot of girls are suffering."

"You are not going to reveal your source?"

" _Nyet_."

"Why not?"

"Because he needs to remain androgynous."

Kwame's lips cracked into a wide smile. He chuckled, touching her cheek with affection. "Oh boy."

"What?"

"All right," Kwame said with a resigned sigh. "It is your call. You were right about the last tip."

" _Spasiba_." He went to walk away and Linka grabbed his arm. "Kwame?"

"Mmm?"

"What was that man's name?"

"Who?"

"The park ranger you were talking to?"

"Oh," he said as he headed away. "Brad, I think."

She hugged herself, standing in the center of the rapidly emptying tent.

* * *

The coffee was disgusting. All froth and no substance.

Bleak took another sip, before making a face and discarding the mug on the small saucer. Tucked away in a corner booth of a random cafe, dreary London was living up to his usual expectations.

It was cold and raining.

Big surprise.

He checked his watch, rubbing his brow and doing his best to ignore the two little turds situated adjacent to him with their families. About ten years of age, the youngsters were alternating between whining at their parents and doing laps of the cafe; tearing past Bleak at regular intervals.

The parents were ignoring them.

"You do not seem like a cappuccino drinker, Bleak."

Her soft voice caused him to lift his head. She dropped into the seat opposite, looking a great deal more put together than the last time he'd seen her. Blondie placed her purse on the table, nodding towards his choice of beverage.

"European countries have no concept of coffee."

"Really?"

"I like it strong," he said, taking another sip. "Like tar. Clean's the insides out."

"Charming."

She sat nervously, clutching the strap and looking around, as if worried someone would see them.

He grunted, pushing forward a large yellow envelope. "That's the files. The floor plans. Copies of the transactions."

"Does Plunder suspect —"

"Plunder's got his hands full with the government breathing down his neck."

"But if it get's too dangerous for —"

"Then I'll cut and run."

"All right." Her slender fingers closed over the envelope, tucking it inside her purse and motioning towards the waitress. "Do I have time for a coffee?"

"You're payin'."

"Always a gentlemen." She rolled her eyes, placing her order and settling back. "Anything new?"

"Got a new phone."

"Bleak, you are honestly —"

"Some new memories," he said, smoothing a palm across his gleaming head and slumping back in his chair. "It's still scattered. Bits and pieces are comin' back. Findin' it hard to put 'em in order."

"Me too."

"I think we were underground for a while."

" _Da_ ," she said. "I think it was an abandoned railway —"

"Power was fucked."

Blondie nodded. "I remember being taken for a drive through the desert."

"Dudes with masks."

"I do not recall Blight or Kroi after this."

"Nope," he said. "Your Coke was spiked."

She nodded, glancing around the cafe. Bleak took the opportunity to scrutinise her. The girl's blonde hair was tied back in a loose pony tail, her face covered with a light layer of make up. Red lips and long lashes framing her wide, green eyes.

"I remember the raid."

"The house with the bomb shelter," he said, eyeing the belcher necklace hanging around her throat. "Pinched some nice lookin' jewellery from —."

" _Da_ , I found those," she muttered, touching the chain. "Ma-Ti gave me the bag."

"Don't think I pinched that one," he said, motioning towards her chain as a frothy mug of milk was placed in front of her.

"All right."

"Hmph."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and doing their best to ignore the high pitched shrieks coming from the unruly children nearby.

"The CIA contacted me last week," she said slowly, dragging her nails back and forth along the melamine table. She met his eyes. "Came to see me while on a mission. Wanted me to meet with them."

"What did you tell them?"

"Told them I do not remember anything."

"MAL given you anything else?"

" _Nyet_ ," she said softly. "He has not made contact again."

Bleak nodded, contemplating his next move. "Don't get all whiny and pissed with me," he muttered, ducking into his front shirt pocket and retrieving a crumpled item. He tossed it onto the table and crossed his arms, eyeing her sullenly. "Think this might be yours."

"What —" she started. He watched her bottom lip drop as she reached for the photograph, unfolding it slowly and smoothing the edges flat. She passed a trembling hand over her mouth; her eyes welling up as she glanced up at him in shock.

"I think our future ginger ninja shoved both this and the chain into my pocket before we went through the —"

"Oh my God," she whispered, wiping a few stray tears away. She turned the polaroid over with trembling hands, reading the untidy scrawl and phone number on the back. "My Wheeler said he could not work out how you managed to contact him."

"You remember posin' for this?"

She shook her head, looking pale and overwhelmed. "Maybe it will come to us eventually."

"Hmph."

She rubbed her face, squinting as her eyes flitted over the twenty or so faces grinning for the camera. Bleak was well aware of it's significance — this little memento solidified everything. It was the only direct evidence of their ordeal. She smiled gently at Bleak and he shifted slightly, uncomfortable at this almost pleasant interaction.

"He moved on."

"Huh?"

"The other Wheeler,' she whispered, running her finger over the polaroid. "He chose not to hold onto it."

"What the fuck does that —"

"It is a message for me." Another tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily, glaring at him. "Why did you not tell me you had —"

"Think I've fuckin' done enough for you, your highness," he snapped. "Forgive me for not —"

"I did not mean it like that." She shook her head, clutching the photo tightly to her chest. "You are such an angry –"

"Have you told the rest of the Happy Hero Fun Club any of this?"

" _Nyet_ ," she whispered. "I would not know where to even —"

"You remember your marital status?" he said, settling back and enjoying the red flush creeping into her cheeks.

Her reaction told him everything he needed to know.

She paused, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, before nodding self consciously.

"You told  _him,_ yet?"

" _Nyet_."

"Christ." He shrugged, taking another sip of his froth as she stirred her drink with a teaspoon. "You two are morons."

"I know."

Bleak frowned, peering at Blondie's drink. "What the fuck is that?"

"Chai latte," she said defensively. "It is a milk-based tea —"

"Smells like fuckin' Christmas."

"Tastes like it too."

"Ground-up reindeers and pine leaves?"

She pursed her lips, hiding a smile. "Cinnamon. Ginger. Cloves. It is very nice."

"Blurgh," he muttered.

She propped her chin in her hand, staring him down with a wry smile. "Maybe this whole experience might open your eyes, Bleak."

"Why?"

"Try new things," she said, gesturing around them. "Slow down. Stop and smell the roses. Appreciate the fact that we are here and we can change things, now."

"Uh huh."

Blondie tilted her head. "You are still a man of few words, Bleak."

"Yep."

She muttered something under her breath and Bleak smirked.

"What?"

" _Pridurok,"_ she said quietly, finishing her weird drink and sliding out from the booth.

"That German?"

" _Ja._ " She grabbed her bag, leaning forward and flicking him in the centre of the forehead. " _Bis spater._ "

* * *

There wasn't enough room for the paperwork, no matter how hard Ma-Ti re-organised the clipboards and wads of stapled documents.

The plastic table was way too small, but he did the best he could. The next person came forward, holding a bowl and their identification. It was a pre-requisite when applying for aid. The camps mostly held genuine refugees — men, women and children persecuted for whatever 'crimes' their victimisers accused them of.

These people had been through hell. He'd spoken to one young man — a teenager — who had witnessed his entire family mowed down by machine gun. He'd survived by playing dead. Crawling out by moonlight and making his way towards the border on his own.

Ma-Ti could feel the waves of grief flowing through him.

Sometimes his element sucked. It weighed heavily on him, heightening his empathy to the point that he suffered for it.

But someone had to help. These refugees had witnessed some terrible things. They deserved a life free of violence and persecution.

"Okay."

He smiled, watching Kwame distribute the rice evenly as he beckoned towards the next person.

"Hello!"

The process went on — Ma-Ti checking and marking off against his paperwork; Kwame pouring the rice bowl by bowl.

The lunch-time line begun to diminish. Ma-Ti shielded his eyes, glancing around the dusty valley dotted with dome tents and makeshift toilets. Linka was sheltered under a small gazebo nearby, administering medication and applying dressings to wounds. Gi was talking to a young girl over by the communal kitchen, and Wheeler was kicking a ball around with a rag-tag group of kids.

The game seemed to be in full swing; a large crowd of people had gathered to watch, sending excited cheers and laughter towards the players. Black and white. Muslim and Christian. Refugees and staff.

Ma-Ti grinned, sitting back in his chair, wishing that the world could just learn to get along. Maybe it was a naive idea, but it didn't stop him hoping that mankind was capable of greatness.

Kwame and Gi had by now jogged over towards the melee and Ma-Ti's eyes flicked towards Linka again. She sat quietly under the gazebo — bent over, elbows pressing upon her knees and staring at nothing in particular.

With the lunch-time crowd now dispersed, Ma-Ti packed up and headed towards her.

She seemed preoccupied these days. Ma-Ti had taken to attempting a discrete beam every now and then, finding her energy clear and bright — no longer scattered. But the brief moment of contact would falter every time, replaced by the sensation of metal doors slamming in quick succession.

At least that was what it felt like.

Linka was actively shutting him out. He'd only tried a few times and the glare she had given him in return hadn't been worth it.

He reached her and she looked up. Her cheeks were flushed with heat but she smiled nonetheless, patting the fold-up faded deckchair beside her.

"How can I help you, little one?"

"My finger hurts," he complained. "Writing too much today."

"Oh, will a band-aid help?" She stuck her bottom lip out, pretending to scrutinise his finger and he shoved her lightly. Her pony-tail bobbed as she chuckled, shoving him back and fanning herself with a smaller clipboard. " _Oy_ , it is hot here."

"Yes," he agreed, looking up as the hollering reached a crescendo. "Wheeler will end up with heat stroke if he keeps that up."

"Mmm," she said, a smile playing on her lips. She reached for her water bottle, drinking down half of the contents. "He is in his element."

"Certainly knows how to work a crowd," Ma-Ti laughed. "Never fails to bring people together."

" _Da_." She nodded, a pensive look passing over her face. "He is a good man."

The question popped into his head — the go-to phrase that had been repeated many times over the past few months.

_Are you all right?_

But he knew better than to use it.

"Ma-Ti?"

"Mmm?"

She bit her lip, looking down at her hands. "I want us to go to Washington."

What?" he said, startled. "Washington?"

" _Da_ ," she said. "Can you… can you help me speak to Kwame?"

"If you spoke to him yourself, I am sure he would —"

"We have been so busy. It is only going to get worse." She wrung her hands nervously. "I need to see for myself… I need to show you."

"Show us what?" Ma-Ti frowned, staring at her. "Linka, are you beginning to remem —"

"There are things…" she began. "It is complicated. I need to know that what I remember is real."

"Linka," he breathed. "Where —"

"I am not ready to talk about it," she said quickly. "I need to see things for myself. See if it matches what is in my mind. Then I will tell you what I know."

"All right," he said, scratching his head. "Washington?"

" _Da_."

"I guess we can speak to him to —"

"Get him!" Gi's voice resonated; high-pitched and excited. Ma-Ti jumped to his feet as Wheeler came barrelling towards the med-tent with three cackling boys in hot pursuit.

"He's runnin' from the defence," Wheeler yelled, dodging a youngster's attempt to grab his shirt "He's into the end zone. He scores!"

The ball was slammed down and Linka yelped, throwing herself sideways out of her seat to avoid getting hit. Wheeler collapsed into the deckchair, out of breath and red-faced from running around. He threw his arms over his head, shaking off the boys attempts to drag him back into the game.

"Nah, guys, I'm done," he panted. "Nearly killed me."

A chorus of groans followed. Ma-Ti shooed them away with a smile.

"It is not advisable to be exerting yourself in this climate, Yankee."

"Sue me," he croaked. "I need medical attention, babe."

Linka tutted, tipping the remainder of her water bottle over a cloth bandage and tossing it over Wheeler's face. "There you go."

"Thanks, toots," he said; his voice muffled beneath the wet material. "Your maternal qualities are overwhelming."

Ma-Ti smiled, meeting Linka's eyes and she grinned back, flattening her palm over Wheeler's face and squishing the wet rag down further.

"Get off," he moaned in response. "Crazy woman."

Ma-Ti nodded, giving her the thumbs up. Walking away, he threw a cursory glance over his shoulder and his heart warmed at the sight.

Linka had pulled herself to the edge of the deckchair; legs folded underneath her body, leaning over and sponging Wheeler's forehead while talking softly to him. Her head eventually lolled and she rested her cheek on the edge of the plastic, nudging his shoulder with her forehead. Eyes closed and resting together.

He smiled to himself, walking faster as he moved to rejoin Kwame and Gi.


	55. Chapter 55

"Think this is it?"

"No," Kwame grumbled. "I doubt she has a clue where —"

"My feet hurt."

Gi shoved her hands into her pockets, watching Linka's hair bounce along in front of her. "I just wish she'd tell us what's —"

"YO BABE!"

Wheeler's voice boomed from somewhere behind them; trailing along at the back of the group with Ma-Ti. He looked less than impressed.

"BABE!"

"WHAT?" Linka snapped; barely breaking her stride.

"Does it look like we're gettin —"

"YES!"

"That is what she said about the last seven places," Kwame said. "I think it is time to cut this short."

"Give her time," Gi said, eyeing Linka with mounting concern. "She's struggling."

"I do not understand why we are —"

"Something about a serviced apartment," she whispered, craning her neck as Linka hurried through yet another intersection. "Apartment or a hotel or something?"

"Right." Kwame gave a resigned sigh. "This is getting —"

Gi lurched to a stop, losing sight of Linka amongst the heavy traffic and pedestrians. "Oh shit, where did she —"

"There," Kwame said, grabbing Gi's arm and pulling her in the right direction.

"Slow down, Lin!" Gi called, spotting her blonde hair bobbing in front again but Linka paid no attention.

Map in hand, Linka powered through the streets and sidewalks. The others were having trouble keeping up with her. With every wrong location they'd visited, she had grown more and more despondent. This was the eighth possible match; circled in red on the map and once again — supposedly fitting the local characteristics.

Gi wasn't sure where these characteristics had been drawn from. This whole mad dash through the streets of Washington had been unexpected, and no one seemed to have a clue what was going on in Linka's head.

Truth be told, they were all worried.

She knew Kwame's patience was wearing thin. They'd arrived at eleven and it was now seven  PM. They'd been on foot for most of the day; negotiating public transport and walking around seemingly random locations.

Kwame and Wheeler in particular resented being dragged around on this wild goose chase, especially in light of the fact that Linka was refusing to divulge the reason for her apartment-induced hysteria.

Gi was concerned, to say the least.

They slowed at another intersection, waiting for a set of lights to turn green. Linka gripped the pole, glancing at the map and scanning the area for what Gi assumed to be recognisable landmarks.

"Anything?"

"It was night time," she whispered; a statement that certainly didn't make things any clearer for Gi. "It is hard to know."

"What's this all about, Lin?"

"It ended here," she said vaguely; shielding her eyes against the setting sun. "In Washington."

Gi glanced at Kwame, and he shrugged, folding his arms in frustration.

The lights turned green and Linka pushed forward, crossing the road and hurrying towards an old apartment building. It was a leafy suburb; elm trees lining the streets. There was a chill in the air and Gi clutched her coat around her throat.

She was cold, tired, hungry… and getting a little annoyed now.

"I can see a park," Linka called, pointing to the other side of the road. She sounded hopeful.

"Another park," Wheeler muttered. "Great. That's great…"

Kwame turned, making a quick hand motion across his throat to Wheeler who nodded in return. He leaned into Gi, keeping his voice low. "This is the last one."

"Okay." Gi pursed her lips. "Your call."

"We are done."

"You can tell her."

Linka stopped at the front entrance, almost seeming hesitant to step inside. They piled around her while the doorman looked at them inquisitively.

"Do you think —" Ma-Ti started, but she stepped inside before he could finish. Crossing the lobby floor, her eyes scanning the modern decor. They walked past the reception desk and headed towards the elevator.

Mirrored walls greeted them. Gi's face fell when she caught Linka's dejected expression staring back at her. It told Gi everything she needed to know.

This wasn't the right location.

The doors opened and Linka stepped out. Gi moved to follow; raising her eyebrows as Kwame pressed the button for the ground floor.

"What are you doing?"

"That is it," Kwame said. "Linka can search on her own time."

"She's not gonna like that."

Kwame just shook his head. The doors began to close and her view of him diminished. "I will book us a room overnight."

Gi bit her lip as he disappeared, knowing that Linka wasn't going to take this well. She hurried to catch up with Ma-Ti and Wheeler, who were a few steps behind the distracted blonde now muttering under her breath.

"I think she's officially cracked," Gi said softly. "Maybe returning to work wasn't such a good —"

"I think she's one french fry short of a happy meal," Wheeler muttered. "Why does she keep looking for room 107?"

"No id —"

" _Dyermo_!" Linka slammed her hand against the wall. Her frustration was palpable.

"Just —"

"This is not it!" She threw her hands in the air, pacing the hallway in an almost frenetic manner. "I need to —"

"All right," Wheeler said, dumping his bag in the hallway and leaning against the wall. "We'll try again another ti —"

"I think if we just moved closer to the outer suburbs, Yankee. Maybe this Arlington place on the map, or —"

"Linka, it is late. We are all exhausted," Ma-Ti said. "We can come back another —"

"We have back to back missions coming up, Ma-Ti! We will not have the time for a—"

"Lin, this is crazy," Gi said, grabbing her shoulders in an effort to calm her down. "Look, maybe you just need to put a little more research into —"

"I cannot!" she hissed, stamping her foot. "If I could just —"

"Geez, babe," Wheeler retorted. "Calm down, it's not a life or death —"

"Do not tell me to calm down, Yankee!" she snapped, gesturing around wildly. "There was a fire escape, a… a park opposite. Underground carpark, I —"

"Is that where you've been all this —"

" _Nyet!_ " she cried. "I have not been there but —"

"Then why the hell is it —"

"It is important to me! That should be enough!"

"Are you listening to yourself?" Wheeler said, his own temper rising. "You're not makin' any —"

"SHUT UP, YANKEE!"

"DON'T TELL ME TO SHUT UP!"

"Linka," Gi said softly, placing her hands on Linka's shoulders and glaring at Wheeler. "C'mon. We'll grab something to eat and —"

"I need to see it!"

"We don't understand," Gi pleaded. She hugged her friend tightly; dropping her chin onto Linka's shoulder. "Maybe if you told us why —"

"It was a room I saw," she said. "A place I remember. I was —"

"You were held there?"

" _Nyet,_ " she said, blinking back tears and gazing at the ceiling. "It is difficult to explain."

"I just think —"

"I need to see it," Linka pleaded. She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Dropping her bag to the ground, she started rifling inside for something. "Look, just let me show you —"

"Linka, we are done."

Kwame's voice cut through the noise. Gi glanced up as he approached; a key swinging from his hand.

"Just one more," she cried, tossing her clothes out as she rummaged through her belongings. "Or I can go by myself, I… oh, where is it?"

"What are you —"

"I know I packed it!" she shrieked, her voice bordering on hysterical. "If you could just —"

"Linka —"

"I need to see where it happened, I —"

"Linka, that is enough. We do not have time —"

"NO!"

She rounded on Kwame angrily, eyes flashing. He took a step back, looking stunned at the outburst. Linka could be assertive, but she was certainly not confrontational. Gi sucked in a breath, glancing at Wheeler whose jaw had just about hit the ground.

"You are right! We did not have time! There was no time! No future, nothing! But we fixed it! We have another chance, now! I just need to see where it all ended!"

She broke down, slumping to the ground in a desolate heap, hitching sobs wracking her body. The others stood by awkwardly; still in shock and not quite knowing how to proceed.

Linka curled her legs underneath her body, turning away from her friends and pressing her forehead against the hallway wall.

In the end, it was Kwame who moved first. He dropped to his knees in front of Linka; rubbing her back in soothing, circular motions in an effort to calm her down.

"Do you know the street?"

" _Nyet_ ," she whispered.

"Do you know the suburb?"

" _Nyet_."

"A name, perhaps? A company —"

Linka shook her head; eyeing the wall miserably.

"I am sorry, my friend. We are all tired."

"I just know we were close to Washington." She threw her bag aside, slumping forward and holding her head in her hands. "It is hopeless, isn't it?"

"I am so sorry, my friend."

"I do not even know where to start."

"Come," he said, attempting to help her up. "I think we all need a good sleep, we can come back another —"

Linka withdrew her arm, seeming to want to remain where she was. He glanced at Gi and she shrugged, waving them away. With a worried glance in Linka's direction, he motioned for Wheeler to follow him back towards the elevator.

Ma-Ti picked up Linka's scattered belongings, returning them to her bag. He hoisted her backpack over his shoulder and wandered away.

Gi sighed, eyeing Linka worriedly. She looked pitiful — pale, tear-stained face and her usual perfectly-coifed hair looking lank and dishevelled. She'd wrapped her arms around her knees and was refusing to meet Gi's eyes.

"Hey," Gi said softly. She dropped down to the floor with a slight wince, reaching forward and brushing Linka's hair out of her eyes.

Linka sniffed. "Hey."

"Long way down to the floor these days," she said. "My joints are screaming."

Linka said nothing.

"What's going on, Lin?"

Linka rubbed her hand over her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she looked exhausted. "I just wanted to see."

"You remember now, don't you?"

She nodded.

"You were taken to this place? This apartment you're looking for, here in Washington? That's where you've been?"

Linka shook her head. "No."

Gi lent back, confused. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Lin."

"I need to see where everything changed."

Linka pushed herself to her feet, trudging wearily towards the elevator with Gi not far behind her.

* * *

Time was fleeting.

For longer than he could remember, the days had been jam-packed with missions, flights, people and politics. The constant sense of urgency took a toll on all of them, but the way they dealt with their busy schedules were worlds apart.

The nights were his.

Couch, chocolate and something random on the television. Movie or sport, it didn't really matter. The opportunity to destress and recharge was something he closely guarded. He'd passed out on many couches over the years, opting for the living room over sharing a cramped bedroom with two other guys.

Nothing personal, but Kwame snored louder than a freight train. Waking up to Ma-Ti's ass crack peeking out from the covers every morning wasn't really his 'thing' either.

Wheeler rolled over, curling his legs up and tossing the remote aside. The others were asleep, having retired to their bedrooms several hours ago. He sighed, glancing towards the girls door.

Linka was a mess.

Just when he'd thought things were starting to get back to normal, the proverbial rug had once again been pulled out from under them.

Linka was falling apart. Something was eating away at her. He had a feeling she knew more than she was letting on; but she refused to let anyone in. It was gut-wrenching to witness.

He dropped his hand to the floor, fumbling around blindly until his fingers latched onto the Snickers bar he'd grabbed from a vending machine earlier. He took a bite before resettling himself under the blanket; intent on allowing sleep to take over. Hoping by morning that things may have returned to some semblance of normality.

The soft creak of a door opening could be heard over the television. He remained still, spotting Linka pass quickly through his field of vision.

His heart sunk.

Bag over her back, she was fully dressed; a determined look on her face as she slipped through and out of sight. The door closed softly behind her.

She was sneaking out.

Wheeler was up and on his feet quickly, half tripping over his discarded sneakers in the process. He pulled them on and exited the apartment.

He followed close behind. Her sneakers padded softly towards the elevator at the end of the hall; coat rustling around her as she reached the elevator doors. He snuck down the hallway in stealth-mode; hugging the wall.

"Goin' somewhere?"

She whirled around; guilt written all over her face.

"Uh, Yankee —"

"What are ya doin', babe?" he asked softly, grabbing her hand as she moved to press the button. He led her away, pulling her back towards the room. He made it halfway before he was met with resistance. Linka had halted, refusing to move. "What's goin' on?"

She slipped her free hand into her pocket, still refusing to meet his eyes. Her hair fell over her face in freshly-washed waves. Full lips and pale, almost ethereal skin. So pretty. Seven years and she still took his breath away. Her three month disappearance had done little to diminish his feelings for her.

She looked so very tired.

"What are ya doin'?"

"Sight seeing."

"Nothin's open, ya dope."

She stood stiffly. "Silly me."

"Would you just talk to me?" he implored, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to face him. "For God's sake, Lin, you're freakin' me out. Freakin' us all out."

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, taking a trembling breath and slumping against the wall. "I needed to see."

"See what? What's goin' on, babe?"

"Everything was gone."

"Huh?"

"All of it."

"What the hell happened?" he asked. "You know, don't you? Where were you?"

"I need to see where everything changed."

She hugged herself. Her head lolled and she seemed to sag, pressing her forehead against his chest. He wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. She relaxed into his embrace with a heavy sigh as his hand settled on the nape of her neck, massaging gently.

"What's goin' on, babe?" he said softly, running his fingers through her hair. "You're a god-damn mess."

"I know," she said faintly.

"You remember what happened, don't you."

She nodded, pushing him away reluctantly and composing herself. Hoisting her bag back over her shoulder, she gave him a sombre look. "Just let me go. We will not get the chance to —"

"This is nuts! It's like lookin' for a needle in a haystack!"

"I will not be long." She buttoned up her coat, pushing her hair away from her face and pressing the button to go down. "Do not try to stop me. Go back to sleep, Yankee."

"It's two in the mornin' —"

"I know." She stepped inside the elevator; that little frown of determination he knew so well back on her face. "I will be back —"

"Just wait until —"

"We are leaving in the morning, Wheeler." She pressed the button, and he knew that he had no hope of stopping her. "Go back to sleep."

He groaned, squeezing inside just before the doors shuddered close. She looked surprised, opening her mouth to protest but he cut her off.

"Don't give me no sass, girl."

"Yankee, you —"

"Can't have ya walkin' the streets on your own."

"I am not going back." She looked mildly annoyed. "I can look after my —"

"I know you can," he replied.

Linka paused; staring at him, her mouth ajar and seeming to reconsider her choice of words. A hint of a smile curled her lips.

"You will help me?" She hugged her bag to her chest; a slow grin spreading across her face.

He shrugged; eyeing the decreasing numbers on the electronic display as they descended. "Sleep's over-rated, anyway."

Her eyes lit up and she threw herself at him. Wheeler staggered backwards; his hip impacting the mirrored panel as she squeezed the breath out of him.

"Thank you!" she said breathlessly. "Thank you, Wheeler, I —"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, disentangling himself. He tugged her into the foyer. "Whaddya remember?"

She grinned, clutching tightly to his hand as they stepped out into the night. "There was a park —"

"Park opposite. Car park underneath. 7-Eleven on the corner. Yeah. You sure it was in DC?"

"I know it only took about thirty minutes to get to the second hotel and that was in the centre of Washington. I just assumed —"

"Anything else? You're not givin' me much to go by."

"Uh," she said, seeming to think hard as their hands swung idly. "It was a stone building with big glass windows."

"Yeah, that really narrows it down."

"Maybe three of four levels high?"

"Try again," he said, tugging her in the direction of the main street.

"There was a big painting of a boat in the lobby."

"A boat?"

" _Da_ ," she said, stifling a yawn. "Uh… it was an older building. Very tired-looking. Many broken things. Needed a —"

"What kind of boat?"

"What?"

"What kind of —"

"Oh. I know nothing of boats," she said. "Uh, a big one. White, maybe metal. I remember there were television antennas —"

"Radar?" Wheeler's brain had switched into gear. "A ship?"

" _Da_ , I guess," she said. "Maybe an oil painting—"

"Notice anyone around in uniform?"

" _Da_." Linka's eyes went wide with excitement. She gestured towards her head. " Now that you mention it, there were some men and women in funny white hats. I remember someone mentioned —"

"Notice any water?"

"Water?"

"River? Bay? Waterway of some —"

" _Nyet._ " She shook her head. "Not that I can remember, but we were only there for one night."

Her random statement only added to his confusion. She stopped on the corner; her breath frosting the air in a soft cloud.

He pulled her onwards; wanting to keep moving towards the more populated areas and she fell back into step beside him. The sudden image of his jacket crumpled on the floor flashed in his mind and he regretted not grabbing it. It was freezing. "Damn, it's like 10 damn degrees —."

"The little eyeholes."

"Huh?"

"In the door," she said. "To look through."

"Peepholes? What about 'em?"

"They were in the shape of a wheel," she said, squeezing his hand. "Like a wiggly circle."

"Ship wheel?"

"Maybe?"

"Seein' a pattern here?"

" _Da,_ " she said, glancing up at him hopefully. "You have an idea, do you not?"

"I'm thinkin' Annapolis."

"Annapolis?"

"Right on the border. Naval academy," he said, stopping at the crosswalk and bouncing on the spot to stay warm. A cab was approaching and he flagged it down. "Maybe a half hour from DC. Would explain the uniforms and naval shit."

"Oh God —"

He pulled his new phone out — three weeks old and already with a cracked front screen. He scrolled through his contacts list, making a mental note to delete the copious amounts of random contacts he'd made over the years.

"Might have someone who can help."

"Will they mind a phone call at —"

"Guy's an asshole anyway," Wheeler retorted. He yawned, leaning against a light pole as the cab pulled in. "Played for the Hoyas basketball team for a year or two. Think his girlfriend might have lived in Annapolis or Fort —"

"You are brilliant!" Linka clapped her hands excitedly; a wide smile transforming her face. "Thank you, Yankee!"

"Don't get too excited," he said, opening the door for her. "He's probably gonna tell me to fuck off."

She glanced back at him, beaming widely. "Thank you."

"Pain in my ass, girl."

She froze suddenly; awkwardly stuck half-in and half-out of the vehicle. She backed out again and straightened, seeming to hesitate. Clutching her coat around her throat, she watched him intently — a far-away look in her eyes. Flushed cheeks despite the inclement weather.

"C'mon babe, I'm freezin' my butt off here," he moaned, hopping from one foot to the other in an effort to keep warm. "Can we —"

She pressed her body close to his, brushing her lips against his cheek.

The frosty weather was all but forgotten.

She arched up and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck and drawing him closer. Her mouth was soft and warm, and once the initial shock had worn off he gripped her face in his hands and kissed her back. Everything else faded away. The street, the cold, the cab driver glaring impatiently at them.

The horn blared and they broke apart, breathing heavily. She hurried into the cab and he followed. Still dazed, he half-tripped over the kerb as he ducked his head and climbed in beside her.


	56. Chapter 56

The park lay dark and dormant in front of them. Stooped in shadow, the eerie lack of street noise was adding to her already agitated mood. The outline of a large tree stood front and centre; its branches looming over the quiet grounds.

If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost see the two of them embraced together beneath the canopy of twisted limbs; whispered words and impassioned declarations of love passing in the air between them.

She could almost touch the roughened bark beneath her fingers; taste the rain on her lips and feel the bitter cold from that night seeping through her skin and into her heart.

Linka paced nervously. Her hands were trembling to such an extent that she shoved them into her pockets — clenching her fists until the sensation subsided.

"This it?"

Wheeler's voice broke through the distraction. She let out a shaky sigh in response, turning and staring at the building behind them. She leaned against Wheeler for support, barely noticing the arm that had slipped around her waist.

The street had been packed with peak-hour traffic when she had seen it, yet there was no traffic at this time of morning. The 7-Eleven was on the corner, just as it had been in her memory.

The store's neon signs glowed brightly in the window, but the interior was only lit by security lights. The sidewalk was empty. Most people were at home, safely tucked into their beds where they should be.

The future had converged with the present with startling clarity, slamming her into the reality of  _now_. The edges were blurred.

She'd seen this place, yet through someone else's eyes. Been to this place without having set foot here. Felt this place without laying down her hands.

This was her  _ground zero_.

In two years time, Gi would have purchased a random packet of hair dye from the 7-Eleven. A cheap, hideously dark color designed to alter Linka's appearance — just one of many massive drastic changes to occur in and around this place.

Heart pumping hard in her chest, she suddenly felt warm and dizzy. She tucked herself further against Wheeler for support as his arm tightened around her.

"Babe?"

"Your friend said this park is not on any local maps?"

"Shows up as a residential lot, apparently," Wheeler said, glancing around. "Building was bulldozed in the 1960's. Local community association turned it into a green space. Planted a tonne of shit."

She nodded, feeling his eyes on her. Worried, no doubt.

"You think this is —"

She walked across the street, taking his hand and leading him inside the building.

They entered the front reception. The desk was unmanned and Linka breathed a sigh of relief, hoping to continue on unnoticed.

"Lin?"

"What?"

"Look," Wheeler said softly, nodding towards a large framed image hanging on the wall opposite. "Naval warship."

She squeezed his hand. The elevator dinged and they ducked against the wall, spotting a security guard exiting. Linka clutched tightly to Wheeler's arm as the man strolled past, whistling to himself. He took a seat at the reception desk and opened up a newspaper — unaware of their presence.

She pointed towards the fire stairs, and he nodded. They slipped inside, starting their ascent. Linka's breath quickened as they passed the next exit door on the next floor; the one she knew would lead out into a back alley — the one she'd flung herself through in such a blind panic.

" _Eto mesto,"_ she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.  _This is the place._

The uncertainty and frustration she'd experienced at the other locations was gone, replaced by something new.

Validation.

"Can you get us inside?"

"Huh?" he said as they exited the claustrophobic stairwell, moving into the hallway. "We  _are_  inside,"

She smiled. "The room,  _eediot_."

"What if there's someone livin' in there?"

She shrugged. "I just wish to see," she said. "It did not seem like long-term accommodation when I saw it."

"Which was when again?"

"It is a long story."

He grunted, grabbing his wallet and rifling through the credit cards. "Apartment hoppin' at three in the mornin'."

"Sorry, Yankee."

She stopped outside room 107, eyeing the decorative spindle wheel around the eyehole. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

It took Wheeler a few minutes to manoeuvre the lock open; tilting the card until he hit the right angle. A look of intense concentration marked his handsome face and Linka couldn't help but smile.

"Do I want to know where you learnt that?"

"No, you don't," he muttered. She heard the soft click and he pushed the door open slightly, lighting his ring and peering inside.

"Looks pretty bare," he commented. "Don't see much furniture."

"Is anyone —"

He flicked the light on, encouraging her to come inside. "No one's home."

Linka stepped over the threshold, barely noticing Wheeler close the door behind her.

The apartment looked very different. A bookcase was tipped on it's side and shoved against the far window. A rolled-up rug was propped upright in the corner of the room.

Nothing else, though. The place was empty with the exception of the dust coating the window sills and floor.

Linka backed up; taking a seat against the wall and clutching her bag in her lap, taking it all in, watching Wheeler pace from room to room, checking things out.

He emerged a few moments later, scratching his head in confusion. "All empty, babe."

She nodded, giving him a small smile, running her fingers back and forth against the fabric of her bag. Contemplating things over. She felt calmer, more focused. Overcome by the certainty that this was it.

She'd found it. Everything she'd seen and experienced had been proven by the mere existence of this place.

"It was different, before."

"Huh?"

She gestured around them. "This place. It was furnished when I saw it."

"This is it, then?"

" _Da_ ," she said, smiling at him fondly. "Thank you so much, Yankee."

"Uh huh." He sat against the wall opposite, yawning. He looked tired; eyes red and hair tousled about his forehead. It was hanging low over his eyes.

_You need a haircut, Yankee._

Grief surged through her.

"You owe me."

"I do," she whispered. "For more than you will ever know."

* * *

The conversation had ground to a halt. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. Perhaps excitement, or a sense of accomplishment. Even the beginnings of a tense and rambling explanation, but she seemed content to just sit in silence.

The late hour was effecting him. So tired — Wheeler was having trouble keeping his eyes open. The promise of sleep beckoned and he was unable to ignore it any longer. He started to relax; his breathing becoming slow and steady. His head lolled forward as he began to —

"We landed in the sand," she said softly, and he jerked upright, opening his eyes. "It was dusty. Like the desert. The wind was awful."

"Huh?"

"Sand was blowing in our faces. In our hair and in our mouths. We walked for a long time until people found us."

"People?" Sleep was all but forgotten. Wheeler leaned forward, listening intently. "Lin, you —"

"Men with masks. They threw bags over our heads and carried us away. Threw us into the back of a truck. Blight fought back and they killed her."

Wheeler stared back at her, his mouth a grim line. "Where the hell were —"

"Not where," she whispered. "When."

"What?" he said. "Babe, you're not makin' —"

"Plunder had been funding a research project. Blight was developing the technology for him." She shrugged, finally meeting his eyes. "She succeeded. I was one of the guinea pigs. The portal worked."

"Portal?" Something clicked in Wheeler's mind. A flash of recognition. "Kwame said he saw a —"

"Eleven years."

"What?"

"That is where we landed. Eleven years in the future."

Wheeler sat back, stunned as he contemplated Linka's words. The skeptic in him laughed at Linka's admission, ready with a smart-ass quip pertaining to some recreational drug-taking on her part.

_Great story babe._

But the realist in him acknowledged Blight's capabilities. That frightening intelligence. He dared to believe, just for a moment that perhaps —

"My first night there was awful. Kroi…" She took a deep breath, seeming to gather the necessary strength to convey the words needed. "Kroi tried to rape me."

It was going from bad to worse. Wheeler sucked in a harsh breath, flushing red at the same time, horrified that his worst fear had come to fruition. "Son of a bitch —"

"Bleak stepped in and pulled him off me. Kroi was beaten to death outside soon after by the men who were holding us."

"Jesus, Linka," he rasped. Nothing else was coming to mind. No words of encouragement or consolation. No comfort. Wrapping his head around this had become his first priority.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, still fiddling with the seam of her bag with those long, slender fingers. The image of Linka using them to fight off Kroi flashed into his head with startling clarity.

There was a bitter taste left in his mouth. It grieved him to know that she had spent all this time fending for herself — other than the morally ambiguous Argos Bleak for company.

He didn't count that for much.

"Geez, Lin," he said helplessly. "I don't… I don't know what to say."

"Bleak helped me many times, he —"

"Bleak's an asshole," he said darkly. "Still can't —"

"He ended up being my guardian angel."

"Some guardian angel," Wheeler spat, his eyes flashing with anger. "If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have ended up —"

"I had to go," she interrupted, her voice high and wavering. "I have no regrets. I had to see for myself."

"See what?"

"I had to see that we failed."

His heart skipped a beat. "Who failed?"

"Us," she whispered. "The Planeteers. The CIA. The politicians. The police. The banks and corporations. Everything. It was all gone."

"What? Lin, you're not making any —"

"We failed," she said again, her voice thick with emotion. "It was all gone. Our future — just dust and ashes. A few survivors trying to get things back to the way they were."

Wheeler was alarmed now, unsure if Linka was indeed telling the truth or in the midst of a fully-fledged breakdown.

"Some men came for me. We thought they were helping us," she said, shrugging. "Once again, Bleak got us out. And that is when  _he_  found me."

"Who?"

"Kwame."

He leaned forward, sure that he had misheard. "What did you —"

Linka's hand slipped into her pocket. Something was clutched tightly within her hand and he gestured towards it.

"What's that?"

She shrugged, tossing him what looked like a crumpled Polaroid photograph. "It was in my bag after all."

It fluttered towards him, stopping just short of his outstretched legs. He picked it up, intrigued. The corner of the polaroid was folded over, the image creased and faded.

"Who are they?"

She gestured towards it, watching him carefully. "Take a look."

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the group shot. Spotting Bleak straight away — arms folded and glaring at the photographer. Mostly unknown faces. Random people huddled together in an assortment of different poses, mugging for the camera.

It didn't take him long to spot her. Linka was standing amidst the strangers; her arms wrapped tightly around a man's waist and gazing up at him with a wide grin. He was hugging her back, his face obscured by the hoodie attached to his sweatshirt.

A moment frozen in time.

He spotted another familiar face — a tall man with corn-rolled hair at the front of the group, crouching down. He ran his finger over the man's face, noting a scar running vertically along his cheek. Recognition dawned — older, but the resemblance was undeniable.

"Holy shit," he breathed, staring at Linka uncomprehendingly as she shuffled over to sit beside him. She settled herself down, tilting her head and resting her cheek against his arm — an action that would have pleased him if not for the current topic of conversation.

"Recognise anyone?"

"No freakin way —"

"Kwame," she said, pointing to the man at the front. Her finger moved; hovering over a short-haired tanned man just behind Kwame. "Ma-Ti."

He wiped his mouth, unable to tear his gaze away. "Are you kid —"

"Gi," she said, continuing despite his stunned reaction. Wheeler rubbed his forehead, already having spotted Gi's smiling face — albeit with much longer hair.

"Holy hell —"

She smiled, tapping the man hugging Linka tightly. "That is you."

"Me?" he said sharply, staring hard. "What —"

"Eleven years older than you are now."

"Don't know what to say, Lin. This is nuts, I can't believe —"

"You all kept your promise. You all knew I was coming."

"How is this even possible?"

"It is a long story. I have a lot to tell you all. There is more than concerns you in particular, but I need to —"

"You know my future?"

"I know how your future would have originally progressed,  _da._ "

"Geez." He shook his head, bewildered, doing his best to keep up with the rapid-fire transfer of information. "That's an eye-opener."

"A lot had changed over the eleven years."

"Uh huh," he said, glancing again at the photo "Eleven years?"

She nodded, eyes closed and still resting her cheek against his arm.

"Looks like we were all still together, though?"

"No," she whispered, and he glanced up in surprise. "But you all re-grouped after I arrived."

"So we'd split?"

"Yes. Two years from now we would have gone in different directions."

"Wow," he murmured. "Always wondered how long we'd —"

"Kwame was married, and so was Ma-Ti."

He nearly choked. "You kiddin' me?"

"So were you."

"Me?"

Linka nodded, reaching for his hand while he came to terms with that particular revelation. She ran her touch back and forth over his knuckles several times before pressing her palms either side of his hand.

"This is just…" He sat back, still incredulous at the turn of events. "I was married?"

" _Da._ " She let go of his hand then and looked away, suddenly interested in the buttons on her coat, fiddling with them idly as a flush swept over her neck and into her cheeks.

"Who was the unlucky girl?"

"Her name was Rachel."

He stared at the photograph. "She in here? Did you meet her?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, flipping the Polaroid over and finding himself distracted by the untidy scrawl on the back. Wheeler's face paled as he scanned the message on the back.

_212-435-3877_

_Don't be an asshole, Bleak._

_Tell CIA to fuck off_

_W_

It was his phone number.

His handwriting, even down to the small flame hastily sketched after the W. Wheeler was under no illusions. There were no 'ifs' or 'buts'. No doubt or uncertainty in his mind.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

The mystery of Bleak's late night phone call suddenly made sense. Bleak had obviously held up his 'end' of the arrangement, contacting Wheeler once home on Linka's behalf.

There were so many gaps. So many questions, he barely knew where to start, but for the moment they could wait. One seemed more pressing.

"Okay. You've got my attention now," he said. "Why Washington? Why are you so desperate to find this place?"

"I have memories," she explained. "It is complicated. This was not a straight time shift. The timeline split. I never went through the portal in their world. I never disappeared. We were all together as Planeteers for another two years. We then broke up — here, in this apartment."

"I'm not gettin' this, babe —"

"The Planeteers ended here. Two years from now."

He blinked. "Why?"

"SAIP," she said. "It all goes back to SAIP. I would go on to assist the CIA with destroying the program and it was the worst possible thing I could do."

"But if you disappeared now, how did you —"

"I never disappeared in their timeline, I —"

He groaned. "This is just weird."

"Tell me about it," she muttered. "Try living through it."

"Okay," he said, doing his best to refocus. "How did SAIP cause us to —"

"Because destroying SAIP meant destroying MAL. She couldn't have realised the effect —"

"Who's she?"

"Me!"

"Oh, holy hell," he muttered. "I'm strugglin' here."

"It is complicated. I never went through the portal in the other timeline. The five of us would continue with the Planeteers for another two years until we went our seperate ways, Yankee."

"But that'd mean there were two of you runnin' —"

"In theory,  _da_. Yes."

"So the older 'you' existed there, too?"

Linka hesitated, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Until a certain point. _"_

 _"_ Until a certain… what does that mean?"

"I died."

"You WHAT?"

His voice sounded sharper than a whip-crack, causing her to jump. Wheeler's hand clamped down on her own. "Fuck," he said hoarsely. "What the hell happ —"

"I was injected with poison. Blight murdered me — left me dying in the rain in front of my children."

_Fuck._

He stared at her, slack-jawed. He was quite honestly speechless, incapable of responding — let alone comprehending — her words.

_She died._

Linka pushed herself to her feet suddenly and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He dropped his head back against the wall, watching her shrug out of the coat; discarding it on the floor. She wandered through the apartment, peeking into cupboards and running her hands over things. The light switched on in the next room and she disappeared inside. He heard her fumbling around, muttering under her breath.

The photo was still in his hand. This proof, the evidence of her time missing, yet it was still a hard pill to swallow. She looked so happy and carefree; not at all what he would have envisioned. None of this was making sense, yet he believed her whole-heartedly.

"I wasted so much time."

She stood framed in the doorway, watching him quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You told me. You told me everything."

"Told you what?"

"I would go on to finish my high school qualifications. Started university studies." She laughed bitterly. "All of these big hopes and dreams."

"Oh god, babe —"

"All of the planning and preparing. Spending my life so wrapped up in my work. Planning for a future that never occurred."

She looked on the verge of tears.

"Let's just back up for a second," he said. He felt heavy, emotionally drained. Suddenly craving a bourbon — something to take the edge off. "You mentioned kids before?"

"Yes."

He rubbed his face tiredly as she disappeared again. He pushed himself to his feet, following her into one of the bedrooms, finding her in the ensuite bathroom of all places, staring at the shower. Touching the glass in an odd, overly tactile way.

"How many did you have?"

"Hmm?"

"You mentioned kids?" He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the towel rack as she straightened. "How many?"

"Two."

"Married? Before you … you know."

"Yes."

"Jesus." The phrase was becoming a tad repetitious, but he could think of nothing more meaningful to say. "Okay."

She smiled gently at him. "There was a little sticker under there."

"Under where?"

She motioned toward some the bathroom cabinet. "One of those little oval ones you see on apples."

"Uh huh," he said slowly. "Okay."

"Do not ask me how I know that."

He frowned, dropping down low and peering underneath. After some twisting and manoeuvring he spotted it, reaching under and peeling it off the kick board. He handed it to her in wonder and she gazed at it; a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"I was not sure if it would be there yet."

"I'm tryin' to understand," he said heavily. "So you've been here?"

She shook her head. " _Nyet."_

 _"_ Babe, you're kinda readin' like stereo instructions right —"

" _She_  had been here."

"Who?"

"My future self."

He blinked, opening his mouth and closing it again as he ran his hand across the cheap melamine vanity top. "Did the other Planeteers tell —"

"Bleak and I both ended up with our future memories. I saw this place in my dreams. I remember this place because  _she_ lived it."

"What happened here?"

She sat cross-legged on the floor and after a moment he joined her, dropping down opposite her, beside the shower stall. He watched Linka run her fingers over the jagged edges from the poorly-laid tiles with a curious expression on her face. At last she straightened, giving him another small smile.

"Blight put a contract out on me. She wanted me dead — blamed me for MAL going off-line. I had no choice but to run. This was the first CIA safe house we were taken to. This is where we were all together for the last time before they took me away."

"Okay." 

"The plan was to give me a new identity and for me to disappear."

"And you —"

"My new name was Rachel."

He shut his mouth abruptly. "Rachel?"

She smiled shyly, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Are you connecting the dots yet, Yankee?"

"Wait..." He swallowed, staring at Linka's serenely beautiful face as an echo of their earlier conversation came flooding back. "Hang on, I —"

"This place is where the Planeteers ended," she said, finally meeting his eyes at last. "It is also where you and I began."

A beat passed. He blinked, mouth working but unable to formulate an intelligent sentence. Shock and disbelief had by now taken over.

"What?" he finally croaked. "Wait a min —"

"This is where it all happened."

"Whaddya mean? Wait, I —" he stammered, still wrapping his head around one particular admission. "You and me?"

She nodded; a shy grin lighting up her face. "You and me."

He leaned forward, needing clarification. "You and me playin' a sedate game of chess, or you and me —"

"You and me together," she whispered, making a motion with her hands that told him everything he needed to know. "The first time we..."

"You and me?" He sounded like a broken record, but at this point he had a care factor of zero. "As in —"

" _Da_."

"Here?" he said, staring at Linka in disbelief. "Like in this apartment, or —"

"The Planeteers ended in the main room." She smiled, shuffling forward on her hands and knees and climbing into his lap. Her cheek rested against his chest and she cuddled into him with a heavy sigh. "We began in here, Yankee."

"Here?" he asked again, glancing around at their unimpressive surroundings. "Like, here in the bathroom?"

"Technically on the floor," she admitted with an embarrassed laugh, hiding her face within the folds of his jacket. He touched her chin, gently tilting her face upwards. She looked tired and weary for sure, but lighter in emotion and in spirit.

He wrapped his arms around her; a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Not a lot of room here, babe."

"Evidently, we made it work," she laughed, cupping his cheek with affection. "I have been told it was rather vigorous."

"Really?" The presence of the apple sticker suddenly took on a whole new meaning. "I'm guessin' you got a little over-aquatinted with the bottom of the vanity?"

" _Da._ "

"All right." He shook his head in wonder, unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face. "Jesus."

"It is a lot to —"

"This is hands down the weirdest conversation I've ever had."

She nodded. "I know."

"Can't say I'm disappointed." He shook his head, still incredulous at the turn of events. He squeezed her tightly, brushing an errant strand of hair away from her face. "Never thought I had a chance with you, babe."

"You gave up everything for me," she whispered. A lone tear tracked down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. "You gave up your friends and your family. You left everything you knew behind so that I would not have to be alone."

"This is —"

"You sacrificed everything to be with me. You took such good care of me, you always have. At the very least, I owe you the truth —"

"Truth about what?"

"I am so sorry, Yankee," she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his. "I spent so long with my head in the clouds. I fought with you and ridiculed you and ignored you. I rejected you and I kept you at a distance, yet when I went through the portal, you were the only person —”

"Jesus babe, you're talkin' about stuff we haven't even —"

"I was lost," she said softly, more tears tracking down her face. "I was alone and scared, Wheeler. All I could think about was you, and you weren't there!"

She burst into tears. He hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth as she wept against his chest.

"I have always taken you for granted," she said, gazing up at him miserably. "I know that. I am so sorry."

He brushed his mouth against her cheek in response and she seemed to slump in his arms.

They sat in silence for a while. Wheeler was utterly bewildered. She mumbled something tiredly and he hugged her tighter, pressing his mouth against the crown of her head and inhaling the sweet scent of her hair.

_Fucking Twilight Zone._

He inspected her closely, running his gaze over her face. Her eyes were closed — long lashes a striking contrast against creamy skin — skin he'd often fantasised about touching. Perfect little nose and kissable lips.

He readjusted her; tipping her head back until she was cradled within the crease of his arm. He peered down at her, trailing his index finger over her nose and lips. He traced the ridge of her ear, sweeping under her chin and down the slender line of her throat; enjoying the way her breath trembled with each unhurried motion.

"Babe?"

"Mmm?" she replied sleepily.

"Night before you left us — just before everything went to hell — you and I hung out on the couch together." He smiled, stroking her cheek lightly. "You remember?"

"Hmm."

"You had Sludge's computer. Showed me stuff."

Linka nodded, her chest rising and falling steadily as she moved towards sleep.

"You fell asleep on me."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Really?" she whispered. "I do not remember."

"You looked so cute," he said, grinning down at her. "Face all smooshed up against my arm."

"I —"

"Dribble runnin' down my shirt. Snorin' louder than a jet engine."

She giggled, an unexpected sound that delighted him. "I definitely do not remember  _that_."

"On the bad days, when I was strugglin," he said, kissing her temple hard. He heard her gasp, clutching his shirt between her fingers. "When I was missin' you, when I started blamin' myself and —"

"Yankee," she breathed, but he shook his head, silencing her.

"I'd think back to you and I on the couch, side by side. Just hangin' out. It'd get me through."

"I am so sorry," she wept. "You have always looked after me. Always taken care of me, even when I did not deserve —"

"I fucked up," he whispered hoarsely. "I —"

"I have always loved you, Yankee. I —"

The rest of the sentence was drowned out. Acting on instinct and a desperate impulsivity, he kissed her hard, tasting the salty sting of tears on her lips. She gasped as he lowered her backwards to the floor, burying his face in her neck as she held him in a panicky grip.

"Missed you, baby," he murmured; his words muffled into her skin. "Thought I'd never see you again."

She grinned through the tears, hooking her arms around his neck; fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. Skin blotchy, eyes red and she'd never looked so beautiful to him.

" _Ya lyublyu tebya_."

He nuzzled her throat, and she sighed beneath him, pulling him down until he was stretched out on top of her. He rolled her gently onto her side, dragging her body towards him. He used his other hand to languidly trail a path along her face.

"I know everything," she said, arching up to kiss him again. She touched his cheek, brushing his lips with her own. "You told me everything."

"Define everything."

She smiled, tilting her cheek towards his wandering fingers. "You used to bribe Kwame. Trade chocolate bars in order to pair off with me on missions."

“Oh God," he laughed in surprise, recalling the 'arrangements' made towards the beginning of their time as Planeteers. "Yeah. Guilty as charged."

"My laptop went missing for a week," she said, raising her eyebrows, and he groaned, knowing where this was leading. "I had no idea where it had —"

"Oh shit —"

"You dropped Sprite on my computer. Short-circuited the keyboard during a mission."

"Crap," he laughed, completely amazed that she knew the details and circumstances. "Yep."

"You took it away to get repaired without me knowing."

"Jesus."

"You have always kept a photo of me," she whispered, pressing on despite his wandering fingers, unable to help himself. "In your wallet, behind your licence. From our first year as —"

He silenced her with his mouth, taking his time. Slow and languid, losing himself to her scent and her touch until time itself became redundant.

They eventually broke apart, breathing heavily. She touched his throat, slipping her fingers beneath the collar of his t-shirt and finding the scar he knew to be beneath.

"Cigarette burn," she said solemnly, dipping forward and kissing the puckered skin. "Your father."

He nodded, his throat closing over and feeling a tad emotional.

"You brought me flowers home every Friday," she whispered, her eyes bright with tears. "We had a wonderful life together."

"We did?"

She nodded, nuzzling his cheek with a sigh. "We were married and pregnant within a year of leaving this place."

He hugged her tighter, understanding her almost frenzied need to locate the apartment.

"We had two children, Yankee." Her fingers raked gently through his hair. "Hannah and Eli."

He breathed a heavy sigh, nuzzling her collarbone; overcome by the admission. "Eli was my Grandfather's name."

"You told me our son arrived looking like a cranky old man," she whispered, smiling gently at him. "It was the first name that popped into your head."

He nodded, accepting her words as fact. He had no reason to believe otherwise.

"You were a wonderful Papa," she murmured, and the lump in his throat increased to uncomfortable proportions. He kissed her again, smoothing her hair away from her forehead — revelling in the fact that he apparently had a future with this stunning creature.

So many questions. So many inconsistencies, so many gaping holes that needed to be explained. For now, none of that mattered. Just the feel of her stretched out beside him; limb's entwined and holding one another on the cold tiles.

Wheeler had no concept of how much time passed. The tiles were uncomfortable against his hip. His muscles were screaming and his arm was beginning to lose feeling.

It didn't matter. He wouldn't trade this for anything.

"Gonna have to tell the others," he said softly. Voices moved about through the walls and the realisation that they were technically squatting illegally in a random apartment occurred to him. "Babe?"

She nodded; her breath warm and heavy, prickling his skin. He knew she was falling asleep again. With great reluctance he got to his knees, shaking her gently.

"Babe," he said, taking her hands and helping her into a sitting position. "C'mon. We can't stay here."

He pulled her to her feet, grabbing her coat and bag, and leading her back out of the apartment.

The first signs of daybreak were evident. They made their way down the street, heavy with both emotion and bone-jarring exhaustion. Arm wrapped securely around Linka's shoulders, he eventually found a cab; bundling her inside and spending the forty-minute drive watching her sleeping soundly across his lap.

It took ten minutes of effort to get her back to their actual apartment. Negotiating the lobby and elevator, she was heavy on her feet, requiring support to avoid dropping like a stone.

They stumbled inside. The television was still on, flickering gently. Music videos. Light was filtering through the curtains and he was unable to stifle another yawn. The couch looked appealing. He moved to let Linka go, expecting her to head back to the room she shared with Gi. She swayed slightly on the spot but remained where she was, slipping her hand into his.

"Gonna be all right to —"

She shook her head, gesturing towards the couch.

"You sure?" Wheeler dropped down tiredly, kicking his shoes off and stretching himself out, watching Linka remove her own shoes and coat.

She settled herself down in front of him, shuffling back against his chest with a sigh. The blanket was pulled down over their bodies and he wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling her hands clasp tightly over his own, threading through his fingers and squeezing.

"You always look after me, Yankee," she mumbled after a while, turning over and burrowing against his chest. 

He held her against him, stroking her hair as she fell easily into sleep; still coming to terms with everything she'd said. Everything she'd shown him.

Knowing that regardless of time and circumstances, he had always loved her — with a fierceness that sometimes frightened him.

And for the first time in his life, he knew with absolute certainty that she loved him too.


	57. Chapter 57

Irate voices sounded from the next room. They were hard to ignore.

Beer bottle in hand, Bleak sat quietly; feet propped up on the table and unable to drown out the ruckus. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the condensation forming on the glass.

"Stupid fucking program should be handling this! I —"

"Have you checked the —"

"— can't believe it's just stopped working!"

A hesitant pause. "Have you programmed it correct —"

"How the fuck should I know!" Plunder roared, no doubt reducing his latest personal assistant to a quaking bag of bones. "The orders were filled, I don't understand why —"

"Have you tried bypassing the coding through MAL?"

"That steaming pile of megabytes won't talk to me," Plunder snapped. "I've got three buyers lined up and ready, and the damn program decides to glitch."

"Blight said it was unstable," the assistant replied. "That's why she was working on another version. Maybe —"

"Maybe what?" Plunder seethed. "Blight's dead. How the hell can she help me now?"

Bleak could hear their approaching footsteps. His peaceful existence was quashed the moment Plunder strode in.

He looked  _pissed_.

A nervous looking man hurried to catch up. Bleak had only met the new assistant a handful of times, but the guy reminded him of a weasel. Thin, pinched face and protruding front teeth. Hunched shoulders. Perpetually terrified.

Plunder paced the makeshift lunchroom. "Twelve million worth of stock and I can't fucking move it."

The bespeckled assistant nodded nervously, clutching his clipboard to his chest. "Maybe if you just —"

"Cram it, square eyes," Plunder muttered under his breath. His eyes settled on Bleak and his rage seemed to increase exponentially. "Payin' you to sit pretty, Bleak?"

"Don't ever recall bein' on retainer," Bleak replied, popping a fry into his mouth. "Or a salary, for that matter."

"Fuck off."

Bleak rolled his eyes, moving his finger around the rim of his beer bottle as Plunder threw himself into the chair opposite. Plunder glared at him and Bleak stared back, refusing to drop his gaze — almost a silent challenge. In the end, Plunder was the first to back down.

"Goddamn ridiculous." Hunched over his computer, Plunder's dark eyes were visible over the laptop cover.

Bleak grunted in response.

"I can access the files, move the product, but I get this stupid error code when I try to complete the fucking last step. Just sits in limbo."

Bleak grunted again, taking another sip of his beer as Plunder's fingers tapped away.

The assistant crept closer. "Why don't you —"

"God-damn fucking technology!"

The error beep sounded again and Plunder pushed the computer away in disgust. He crossed his arms, glaring at Bleak.

"Typical. Just sit there and —"

"What?" he challenged. "How the hell am I suppose to know what to —"

"What do you think?"

Bleak took another swig of his beer. "Do I look like a fucking computer technician to you?"

"My mistake," Plunder replied smoothly. "Keep forgetting you barely finished elementary school."

Bleak tensed, swallowing the urge to slam his fist into Plunder's ugly, smirking face. "Don't need a college education to shoot a gun, boss."

"Your services are becoming a tad outdated, Argos," Plunder remarked. "Seems money talks more than muscle these days."

"Always need muscle." Bleak shrugged nonchalantly. "Not everyone needs or wants —"

"Money is everything," Plunder smirked, tapping away at the keyboard again. "Not much that can't be bought these days."

"How 'bout loyalty," Bleak muttered under his breath.

"What?" Plunder frowned, glancing over the top of the laptop.

"Nothin."

"Stupid program."

The nervous little weasel crept forward. "Perhaps if you —"

The error code beeped again. Plunder jumped to his feet, sending the chair skittering across the floor. The assistant shrank back in fright.

"Goddamn it!"

Bleak finished his beer; placing it with three empty bottles.

"I'll get Blight's little friend onto it."

Bleak's ears pricked. "Who?"

"Some schmuck who was on her payroll. Worked for the government," Plunder replied, straightening his jacket. "Might be able to tell me why my fucking state-of-the-art security systems keep going offline at the worst possible fucking time, too."

"Shit happens."

"Think I've got a rat."

Plunder straightened the lapels of his jacket, intent on composing himself. "Might be time for a little spring cleaning. Flush the bastard out."

The hackles rose on the back of Bleak's neck. Those well-honed instincts were rising to the surface.

_Shit._

He was well aware of the risks involved. It was only a matter of time. Some careful digging would potentially turn up an electronic path that would lead straight to Bleak.

Turning off the security feed just before handing over Blondie. Copying files, anonymous phone calls to the FBI. Sabotaging Plunder's computer. Blondie had warned him before passing on the inconspicuous USB drive.

Bleak eyed Plunder stride from the room; his assistant bumbling along behind him.

"Need you in Puerto Rico." Plunder's voice echoed down the hall and Bleak straightened, listening carefully. "Problems with the locals. I'll buy your ticket and…"

Plunder's voice trailed away, but Bleak was no longer listening. He stood swiftly, heading for his makeshift office.

* * *

"I am not understanding why you did not disappear in their time —"

"Blight's portal did not allow for a straight time jump. There was a split — a fork — that branched off. The split created two seperate timelines."

"So if you had not gone through, we would have followed the original —"

" _Da_."

Kwame's questioning face stared back at her from across the room. Ma-Ti and Gi were seated either side of him on the couch, and they were looking equally baffled.

"Wow," Ma-Ti said, settling back against the couch. "All right."

"Tryin' to understand this," Gi said softly. "You saw our future? I mean, before you went through —"

" _Da._ "

"We would have split after two years?" Gi asked. Her face was pale; her eyes not leaving Linka's. "We would have walked away?"

Linka nodded, stifling a yawn; still overtired from a lack of sleep. Wheeler was curled up beside her; his toes nudging her thigh. His mussed up hair peeked out from under the blanket and she smiled down fondly at him.

Kwame flicked the photo with his finger, dodging Gi's persistent attempts to snatch it out of his hands, staring avidly at the group of people gathered within. He was fascinated, refusing to relinquish his hold no matter how hard Gi tried.

"Was it witness protection, Linka? Where you went? The other version of you, I mean —"

"It was meant to be. I guess so. It did not work out, though."

He frowned, running his hand over his mouth. He looked tired and drawn. Overwhelmed. "You were taken away and —"

" _Da_."

"You were alone for all those years Linka? I cannot even fathom —"

She winced, glancing at Wheeler. "I was not alone, I —"

"But Blight found you anyway?"

She nodded, and Kwame let out a harsh breath.

"How did it happen?"

"I was given an injection. The poison only took a few minutes."

Ma-Ti gasped. "Oh my God —"

"Does it mess with your head?" Gi whispered. She looked appalled at the events that had come to light. "I can't even… I mean, knowing what you know now. Will it change —"

"It is hard to even comprehend," Ma-Ti whispered.

"Eleven years had passed…" Kwame's voice piped up again, still concentrating on the image clutched tightly within his hand. "Things became so desperate. So dark."

" _Da_."

Kwame studied the picture carefully. "What happened to my face?"

"Greedly attacked you." She made a stabbing motion. "Knife."

"I would never have thought that they were capable of that," Ma-Ti breathed, staring at Kwame in horror.

"It got a lot worse. Yankee was shot twice in the chest by Plunder just before —"

"I was shot?" Wheeler mumbled tiredly. "You missed that little nugget of information."

"Sorry Yankee," she said, squeezing his foot and he nudged her thigh gently. "There is a lot to recall."

"What were we like?" Gi was finally successful in snatching the image from Kwame's tight grip. She stared hard at it as Kwame peered over her shoulder. "Us, I mean. Our future selves?"

"You were…" She paused, considering her words. "You were all very different. You had changed."

"Were we married?"

"Some of you were."

Gi's brown eyes widened, no doubt intrigued at the prospect of a glimpse into her alternate future. "Did I end up meeting Prince Charming?"

"Kissed a few frogs, no doubt." Wheeler's muffled voice sounded again from beneath the blankets. He didn't see the cushion Gi launched in his direction. It clipped the side of his covered face, rebounding off Linka and falling to the floor. "Ow."

"Did I meet someone?" she repeated.

Linka hesitated for a moment, observing Gi's curious expression. "You were seeing someone. You seemed very happy."

"Oh c'mon," she moaned. "You can't just —"

"It does not matter anyway, Gi. The future I saw will no longer evacuate."

" _Eventuate_ ," Wheeler mumbled.

"Oh." She scratched her head. "I thought I had that one."

"What about me?" Kwame's interest was well and truly piqued. "Was I married?"

" _Da_ ," Linka nodded. "Ma-Ti too."

"What about the ladies man?" Gi asked, nodding towards Wheeler. "Did he knock up half of Brooklyn before the world went to hell?"

"Just one," came Wheeler's muffled response and Linka grinned, smoothing the blankets over Wheeler's legs.

"Playmate of the Year? Underwear model?" Gi teased as Wheeler rolled onto his back; bleary eyed as he gave her the middle finger. He sat up and manoeuvred himself around, settling his head onto Linka's lap with a tired sigh. Her fingers stroked through his hair tenderly.

"Yankee was married, too."

"Wow," Gi said, clearly impressed. "Never pegged you as the type to settle down."

"You have so little faith in me, Gi."

She shrugged; her lips quirking into a smile. "Gotta lower my expectations when it comes to —"

"I'll have you know I —"

"Your throat," Kwame interrupted, motioning towards Linka; unwilling to wait for the bickering to cease. "Do you remember who —"

"Kroi — the older Kroi — tried to strangle me as we were returning," she explained, touching her throat self-consciously. "Bleak said he threw me through a glass cabinet." She flexed her hand, looking at the jagged scar across her palm. "I had to use a knife on him apparently to get away."

"You do not remember?" Ma-Ti asked gently.

She shook her head. "That memory remains a little unclear."

"Probably for the best," Kwame said drily. He sighed, settling back against his chair and seeming to mull things over. Fingers pinched in a steeple, he regarded her curiously. "You interacted with our future selves?"

Another moment of hesitation. She nodded.

Kwame raised his eyebrows. "We were different?"

"You were all very different."

"How?"

Linka shifted, uncomfortable at the thought of sharing the altered aspects of their personalities.

"Ma-Ti was a little quieter, perhaps."

"What about me?"

She smiled at Gi, considering her words carefully. "You were sad. You struggled to adjust after I was taken away, but you had a good friend beside you."

"Oh," she said softly, raising her eyes to the ceiling with a heavy sigh. "I think this is the most depressing conversation on record."

"It is a conversation that we need to have," Linka said, trying to explain. "There is so much that has happened. So much that I have seen, and SAIP was the beginning of it all."

"But Blight is dead," Kwame said. "The updated versions of SAIP have hopefully died with her."

"That's right," Gi said. "You've already changed things. SAIP is in the early stages. Obviously you'll have to keep telling the CIA to get f—"

"SAIP is still in play, but I am hoping we have done enough to  _saba_  —  _sabo_ —" Linka clicked her fingers in frustration. "Oh  _bozhe moi,_ the word is not —"

" _Sabotage,_ " Wheeler mumbled against the soft cotton of her t-shirt. She brushed his forehead, gracing him with an appreciative smile.

" _Da_. We were able to plant a corrupt file in Plunder's hardware, since he is the primary user —"

"How did you manage that?" Gi asked. "Wouldn't you need to physically have access to his —"

"Bleak," Kwame said, and Linka knew he'd put two and two together. He leaned forward, staring Linka down. "Bleak is your contact."

" _Da_ ," she said softly. "Bleak has spent the last month passing on information."

"I don't understand," Ma-Ti said. "Why would Bleak keep help —"

"He saw everything I did. Bleak's future was just as depressing as mine was. Neither of us had long to live if we had followed the original tineline."

"What do you —"

"We found out that Plunder had eventually contracted Kroi to kill Bleak."

"Oh wow," Gi breathed. "I take it Bleak outlived his usefulness?"

"Something like that. Bleak was the one who warned the authorities about the contract on my head. We believe he was killed as a result."

"Oh my God," Ma-Ti murmured, glancing at the others. "So he's our insider, now?"

"He was."

Gi frowned. "No longer?"

"It was getting too dangerous. He left Plunder's compound last night."

"Where did he —"

"He is no longer contactable. Gone underground." She shrugged. "Do you really think Bleak would tell me, anyway?"

"Probably not." Gi stood up, slipping into the apartment kitchen. Her posture was tense as she trudged heavily around the counter. "God, I need a coffee."

Wheeler raised his hand. "Make that two, dolphin-girl."

"Yep," she said, flicking the kettle on.

"You said we had all changed." Kwame's deep voice commanded her attention. "You said we were different?"

" _Da_ ," she said huskily.

"How had I changed?"

"It is difficult to…" Linka paused, struggling to find the words. Eying him with slight trepidation as coffee mugs tinkered on the kitchen counter in front of them. "Kwame, you were  _harder_. You rarely laughed or smiled."

"Really?"

"You were in charge of one of the underground settlements. Bossed everyone around." She smiled suddenly, meeting his eyes. "We had a rather large argument about it at one stage."

"An argument?" He grinned back at her, crossing his legs and leaning back. "Why does this not surprise me?"

"Boss-man," Gi said. "Did Kwame still have a snoring —"

"I do not snore that badly, Gi —"

"The earth moves with every breath you —"

"Wheeler and I had married," Linka said softly, her voice only just audible over the others.

A gasp issued from the kitchenette. The coffee mugs clunked heavily, making them all jump in fright. Gi had visibly flinched; the kettle raised halfway in the air and her mouth hanging open.

The room descended into an abrupt silence.

Linka bit her lip. Her heart was thumping hard but she swallowed the anxiety, waiting and praying for someone to say something. To say anything; to fill the gaping void within the room. Expressions of joy, happiness, surprise. Even disappointment or sadness would do.

Just a reaction. She felt her cheeks burning, aware that three pairs of eyes were focused solely upon her and Wheeler. She wasn't used to sharing. Innermost thoughts and feelings had always been closely guarded. This admission changed everything, providing them with a mere glimpse.

Having to own up to the fact that her feelings for Wheeler ran deeper.

"I was not sure… I did not know if… ugh." Linka stammered. She swore under her breath, flustered. "I was not going to say anything, but…"

Wheeler shifted. His striking blue eyes calmed her somewhat and she trailed her touch down the ridge of his nose. He remained quiet, however.

"What can I say," she ventured, settling back. "Keeping things to myself has not served me well in my past — or my future, for that matter. I think I have made many mistakes over the years. Many poor choices. Decisions that make no sense to me, now that I know how my life would have progressed."

She watched Kwame rub his hand over his mouth. He remained quiet; as did the others, adding to her increased level of discomfort.

"I saw everything through her eyes. Through her memories. I felt everything." She shrugged, weaving her fingers through Wheeler's hair. "We fell in love."

A hint of a smile from Ma-Ti, but still nothing was spoken out loud.

"Wheeler and I left together," she whispered. "Two years from now. We would move around a lot for the first twelve months, avoiding Blight who was still searching for me. By the time we settled down in one place we were married and expecting a baby."

Kwame leaned forward, propping his chin in his hands and listening intently.

"Two children," she added, throwing caution to the wind. "By the time I met his future self, he had been widowed for a few years, raising our children on his own in a world that had become so dark and dangerous."

"Oh my God," Gi murmured.

"He was the most changed," Linka said, struggling to compose herself. "The joy was gone. I missed it greatly while I was there."

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily.

"Say something," she whispered, flicking her gaze to Gi again. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Gi looked troubled. The kettle was still clutched tightly with her hand — the coffees all but forgotten.

"Did you know this, Wheeler?" Ma-Ti appeared both delighted and completely appalled in equal parts.

"Yeah." He nodded, pushing himself into a sitting position and settling back beside her. His hair was wild, sticking up in all directions. "Lin told me last night."

"Wow," Ma-Ti breathed. "How do you even —"

"You left behind a family." Gi's face was pale. She sniffed, brushing away tears with her fingertips. "Makes it all the more worse. Not that I'm…" She shrugged, giving them a small smile. "It's tragic, really."

"What will you do?" Kwame asked gently. "I mean, knowing what we know now?"

"How do you…" Gi frowned, seeming to struggle to come up with the right words. She appeared emotional; red, glistening eyes still focused solely on Linka. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I mean, do you feel compelled to follow some aspects of the path you saw?"

"Do you feel you  _need_  to?" Ma-Ti asked. He smirked, nodding towards Wheeler. "And I'm talking about the red-haired zombie sitting beside you."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious."

"So you two really —" Ma-Ti began, unable to hide his delight. "After all the fights and arguments and —"

"What can I say," he replied, grinning back. "Could only resist me for so long."

"It's romantic," Gi sighed. "Well, until... you know."

"Wore you down eventually, babe," Wheeler said, leaning in and kissing Linka's cheek. He turned his gaze to Kwame. "We headin' off today?"

"Yes."

"You're drivin'," he grumbled. "My future wife kept me up all night."

Gi's mouth dropped open again, and he was quick to clarify. " _Talkin'_ , you degenerate."

"Sure."

"Hmph." He squeezed Linka's thigh before rising to his feet, swaying slightly as he trudged away wearily. "I'm takin' a shower before we go."

They watched him leave. The mood in the room was pensive, as if reflecting on what could have been.

"Do you feel pressure to follow certain aspects of the future you saw?" Ma-Ti said finally. "Maybe  _pressure_  is the wrong word, but it is certainly food for thought."

Linka shook her head, smiling gently at Ma-Ti. " _Nyet,_  I do not feel pressure. The future I saw will not happen. It is no longer  _our_  future. We are making our own path, even sitting here."

"We have watched the two of you go back and forth for many years now," Kwame said. "So the news is not exactly surprising to us."

"The future is no longer set," Linka said simply. "We get to rewrite it however we like. Wheeler may decide that a Playmate of the Year comes with a lot less emotional baggage."

"Doubt it," Gi muttered.

"You know what I mean." She sighed, pushing her hair away from her face. "I came away from this experience with  _knowledge_. Knowing that I left things in life too late and it was my one regret before dying. I know that. I saw that and I felt that."

"Turning over a new leaf?" Kwame said, raising his eyebrows.

"Perhaps," she murmured.

Kwame nodded, looking at her with something like pride. He stood, shaking his head slightly and following the path Wheeler had taken a few moments before. "All right. I think that is enough angst for one day."

"Are we leaving?" Ma-Ti stood and stretched, smiling down at Linka encouragingly.

"Half hour," Kwame's voice floated back and Ma-Ti nodded, placing his palm over Linka's head in a gesture of affection as he left.

Linka sat quietly, watching Gi round the counter and plonk herself down on the couch beside her.

"I'll say it again," she said quietly. "Messes with your head."

Linka nodded.

"Tryin' to understand this. So the future Wheeler you knew had all these memories and experiences? Of you guys as a couple. As a family?" She frowned, raising her eyes. "Then he lost you?"

" _Da_."

"Then you turn up from a different point in time — a time where you'd spent most of your days pretty much... for lack of a better word,  _ignoring_  him."

Linka flinched, but no matter how poorly phrased Gi's observation was, it was the truth. " _Da_."

"Geez," she breathed. "Can't even imagine. Poor bastard."

"He was very different," she said. "By the time I arrived, our firecracker had lost his spark."

Gi shook her head in wonder. "Poor guy."

"It came back towards the end of my time there, though."

"He adores you, you know?"

"I know," she said faintly.

"Always has." Gi pursed her lips, nodding. She sat back, clutching Linka's hand and squeezing it gently. "What are you —"

"I slept with him," she said softly. The words tumbled out in a rush — and the relief was palpable. "We slept together."

"Huh?" Gi's eyes went wide as she leaned in closer. "You what?"

"I —" Linka swallowed, peering around the room; double checking that they were indeed alone. The knowledge and resulting memories had been eating away at her for some time now. "I slept with him."

"With Wheeler? Wait, he... I thought you guys just talked last —"

Linka dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Not that Wheeler."

"Oh my God," Gi breathed, sinking back into the couch and contemplating the new information. "Are you serious?"

"Just before I returned," she murmured; her voice muffled within her palms. "We spent the night together in a truck at Blight's compound."

"Oh my God," Gi repeated, shaking her head in wonder. "How did... what... wait a minute, in the back of a truck?"

"In the cabin." Linka looked up, noting Gi's slightly perturbed face. "Behind the driver and passenger seats. There was a bed in the back."

"Oh." Gi looked speechless. "Okay. Uh, wow."

"I just had to..." she whispered, staring down at her hands and flexing her fingers. "I had to tell someone."

"So you haven't told  _him_  yet?" she asked, nodding in the direction Wheeler had walked five minutes earlier.

She shook her head.

A pause. Gi's chin dropped down gently onto her shoulder. "Are you going to?"

She nodded. "I think the Yankee and I will need to sit down and have a serious conversation."

"That's an understatement," Gi said, but she smiled all the same. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around Linka and hugging her hard. Rocking back and forth, Gi pressed her face into Linka's neck. "Any regrets?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "None."

"Wow."

"I know."

"Caught me off guard there for a minute," Gi laughed, wiping away tears. "Kidnaping, murder, time travelling. End of the world stuff and here I am blubbering over you finally getting laid."

Linka felt her face heating up. "I just had to get it off my chest," she whispered, peering at Gi. "It just happened. We both needed it, I suppose."

Gi nodded, unable to wipe the smile off her face. "That's understandable."

"I always liked who he was." Linka shrugged, leaning against her friend. "But I love who he became. Does that make sense?"

"Yep."

"Don't say anything, not until I have spoken to —"

"I won't." Gi made a cross sign across her chest, giving Linka a final squeeze. "I promise, but I can't help being kinda thrilled for you right now!"

"I know," Linka replied, breaking into a wide grin as Gi shoved her playfully.

"Okay," she said, moving away and composing herself. "Wow. Okay. I'm off to pack my stuff. You gonna be all right?"

" _Da_ ," she replied, giving Gi a small wave as she stood, wandering towards their shared bedroom. "I will be all right."

Smiling, she raised her hand, inspecting the faint scar across her palm and tracing her finger down the mottled edges before letting it fall into her lap. She straightened.

Today was a new day.

_I am all right._


	58. Chapter 58

Hair billowing about her face, Gaia tended to the shrubs on the far south-east peninsula. The wind was picking up, but then it always did here. Her ability to achieve solid form on Hope Island had faded with time. No longer Earth-bound, transparency had become her constant state of matter these days.

Feeling, touching and manipulating the earth was no longer second nature. Even here, toiling amongst the soil took a great deal of concentration. She had to work hard to achieve what she had once taken for granted — the ability to form a physical connection with her beloved realm.

There would soon come a time where even this would become impossible. Gaia sighed; forcing the thought to the back of her mind, eyes scanning the horizon.

The views here at the top were breathtaking, granting a 360 degree panorama of the island and surrounding ocean. A treat for anyone who dared negotiate the jagged cliff-face and perilous rocky outcrops. Easy enough for a free-floating spirit to access, but more difficult for those of flesh and blood.

Only Kwame had ever attempted the climb to the top. It had taken him half the day to ascend, but the effort had taken it's toll. Exhausted, he'd had no choice but to call on help from Linka to get back down again. That had been several years ago. He'd been barely out of his teens.

Her Planeteers were no longer children. No longer naive; no longer burdened by their child-like view of the world. They were fully fledged, bona-fide adults; treading a fine line amongst the greed, corruption and destruction plaguing the planet.

The time had come to sort their own way in life. Two had found their path. Two had found each other. One would need a little nudge in the right direction, but she had every confidence that Gi would reach her destiny in due time.

Gaia rose to her feet; dress fluttering in the breeze and shielding her eyes. Sunset was putting on a spectacular show this evening.

It was her favourite place; at the highest point of the island, amongst the shrubs. Lavender grew like wildfire, here. Uninhibited and free, a rippling blanket of purple and green sprouting from all sides and corners.

The crystal chamber beckoned.

She turned and faded; intent on recharging her energy for a while.

* * *

**Two weeks later.**

Grit crunched under his sneakers as they made their way up to the rooftop. Heading back to the Geo-Cruiser, Linka's hand seemed so small clutched tightly within his own. He squeezed her fingers, and she grinned back at him, stumbling slightly on a broken concrete step.

" _Dyermo_ ," she muttered, glancing back. Her momentum slowed, and he tugged her onwards, wanting to get out of the dank stairwell. The smell of mould and cigarettes was strong here.

The second bottle of wine had been a bad idea. They weren't drunk but they were certainly tipsy. Linka's unsteady gait was quite charming, really. Not conducive at all towards those all important gross-motor skills — like climbing several flights of stairs, for example — but certainly enough to impede their ascent.

She waved her finger idly in the air. "I doubt either of us are in any condition to pilot, Yankee."

"Mmm." The same thought had already occurred to him. He shrugged, not too concerned. "We'll bunker down for the night. Done it plenty of times before."

"Blankets..." She paused, seeming to lose her train of thought. "Ah, I have had too much wine."

"You ordered 'em."

"You helped me drink them!" she giggled, swaying slightly. " _Bozhe moy_ , I am still recovering from the fact you asked me out on a date."

"First time for everythin'." He smiled, glancing at her lovely profile. "Occurred to me I've kinda neglected that step after all these years."

" _Da_ ," she said, giving him a sly grin. "This is true."

"Plenty of quality pick-up lines, though."

"Quality?" she muttered, giving him the side-eye. "Oh Yankee, you are the absolute worst at —"

"Did you sit in a pile of sugar?" He slowed, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close. "Cause you have a pretty sweet ass."

" _Oy,_ " she moaned between fits of giggles. "That is terrible —"

"Do you have a Band-Aid?" he said as she collapsed against him. "Because I just scraped my knee falling for you."

"That is just as bad —"

"Do you have a map?" he said breathily, leaning in further and cupping her chin, tilting it upwards. "Cuz I'm gettin' lost in your eyes."

She snorted, shoving him away lightly. Still laughing, he reached for her hand again, swinging it lightly as they eyed each other nervously; the air charged with mutual attraction.

" _Durak_."

"Hey, I got moves," he laughed as they exited the door, spilling out onto the rooftop. "They just never worked on you."

"Yes, they did."

Something about the finality of that sentence floored him. He squeezed her fingers again, feeling her shoulder bump against his arm. Wisps of hair had escaped her beanie, moving about her face in the breeze.

She sighed happily as the Geo-Cruiser came into view. Wheeler picked up the pace, unlatching the door and climbing in. Swinging his leg up and over, he misjudged the height and slipped, crashing to the floor with a resounding  _oof_.

Linka's giggles soon filled the cabin; entering and finding him sprawled half-way between the aisle and the third passenger seat. His left foot stuck up awkwardly in the air and he groaned, tossing an arm over his face as Linka clambered towards him.

"Graceful," she laughed, offering her hand and pulling him up. "Well done, Yankee."

"Coulda' sworn that step-down was lower," he grumbled, dropping heavily into the pilot's seat. "Blamin' it on the alcohol."

"Could also be your coordination."

"Mmm," he replied, watching her shrug out of her coat and toss it to the floor. His eyes appraised the slim figure underneath; those dangerous curves hidden beneath a black lace dress and black panty-hose clad legs. A hint of cleavage; enough to illicit that familiar tug at the base of his stomach.

So  _Linka._ That alluring femininity she strove to keep hidden — until now, that is. She seemed brimming in confidence. Different, more sure of herself — to the point that her penetrating gaze lately was making  _him_ a little nervous.

She stepped in front of him, leaning back casually against the piloting console and watching him quietly, and for a moment he wondered how tonight was going to pan out. That maybe —

"We were meant to talk, tonight."

He raised his eyebrows. "We were?"

" _Da._ "

"Did we?"

" _Nyet._ "

"Hmm."

She moved forward; stepping over his legs with measured care and sinking into his lap, straddling him. Hooking her arms around his neck, she lowered her face and smiled down at him; nose to nose and close enough to take his breath away.

The corner of her lip quirked as she tossed her beanie aside. More strands of hair fell loose from the messy bun piled on top of her head, falling about her face.

She was beautiful. Perfection.

"Do we need to have a conversation?"

"Conversation?" He shook his head, doing his best to ignore the various scenarios flickering away in his mind. "Define the word 'conversation'."

She leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair; her nails dragging through his scalp slowly and deliberately, eliciting a soft groan from him.

"I do not know. How do you say… perhaps a chat?"

"About the Lakers scores last night?" he teased, finding himself wholly distracted by the sensation of her fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck.

" _Nyet_."

He shifted uncomfortably; the movement causing Linka's body to sway above him.

"Got plenty of anecdotes about the weather?"

She gave him a perfect little pout, forcing his head back against the head rest and raising herself slightly. Her breath was warm against his cheek, her mouth grazing his ear and moving down his neck. She nipped him gently with her teeth.

"Jesus, Linka," he groaned as his body reacted accordingly. "You're —"

"Just wanting to see if we are on the same book."

"Same  _page_?"

"That too."

He felt her lips press against the pulse in his neck, nuzzling him affectionately. Her tongue flicked the sensitive skin at the base of his throat and he swore under his breath, hoping she'd continue whatever the hell she was doing because it felt fucking fantastic.

She sucked lightly at his neck and he reached out, unbinding the bun until her thick hair tumbled about her shoulders. He ran his fingers through the loose curls, brushing them away from her face.

Throwing caution to the wind, Wheeler's arms wrapped about her body, crushing her against him; feeling her cheek press down against the top of his head as she held him. She was soft and comforting; her body's warmth radiating from under the layers of material separating them.

He wanted her desperately.

Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Linka shifted her hips, rocking ever-so-slightly against him. He let out a harsh breath against her skin, sliding his hands under her dress and gripping her lithe thighs, anchoring her in place.

"Yankee?"

"Yeah?" he said huskily.

Soft lips brushed his. He blinked up at her, trapped; his head still angled back against the head rest.

Her hair trailed down around his face in a perfect, perfumed cloud.

"Do we need to talk?"

He arched up, kissing her deeply, an almost unconscious answer to her question. His hands travelled of their own accord, moving further along her thighs and slipping underneath her bottom, squeezing gently.

She gave a soft gasp against his mouth, grinding against him, and Wheeler's resolve crumpled into oblivion.

He tipped their combined weight forward, shuffling until they were perched on the edge of the pilot seat. He withdrew his arm long enough to fumble beneath the console, activating the window shutters.

They closed in sequence, soon plunging the cabin into darkness. He could hear her rapid breathing; feel the rise and fall of her chest against his; the soft press of her breasts. The faint scent of vanilla and strawberries remained on her skin and he tipped her back further, burying his face in her neck and losing himself in her scent.

Like a flag to a raging bull, he was overcome by the dire need to remove clothing.

He was done.

"Yankee?" Her voice was a mere whisper.

He reached behind her back, grabbing hold of the zipper and reefing it down impatiently. The dress was tugged down over her shoulders and arms until the fabric piled in a loose pool around her waist. She surged forward, cupping his face and kissing him again; searing and passionate as his hands roamed her bare skin.

"Jake?" she breathed. "Do we need to talk about things first?"

"Nope," he said gruffly, removing his shirt and tossing it aside. He lifted her, stepping away from the pilots seat and dropping her roughly to the floor, his hands blindly seeking out her thighs as he settled himself between them. "I'm done talkin'."

* * *

**Six Months Later**

Ma-Ti sat at the counter, waiting on the coffees. He'd never been a coffee drinker prior to being a Planeteer, but it certainly helped with the long hours and lack of sleep. He rubbed his face tiredly, swinging around on the barstool and taking in the motley groups of people in the all-night diner.

His power no longer needed to be commanded. One glimpse at a random stranger told him all he needed to know. Those who were pure of heart were the easiest to read.

Just a flick of the eyes was all it took.

 _Flick._ College student studying for an exam the next morning.

 _Flick._  Homeless woman warming herself over a steaming drink.

 _Flick._  Truck driver stopping for a break. Currently wired up on amphetamines and god-knows what else.

 _Flick._ Young family travelling to visit family. The children were asleep across the vinyl booth seats; their parents arguing quietly over a large, rumpled map.

There were very few people he couldn't read. Looten Plunder was one of them. Plunder was a man devoid of empathy or compassion for others. Anger was the only way into his mind, but Linka had continually baulked at that suggestion so he'd left it alone.

Ma-Ti settled his elbows on the counter again, chin perched in his palms. The diner was reasonably quiet but he closed his eyes nonetheless, an attempt to drown out the incessant chatter that existed only within his mind.

A small television was on, tuned into a late-night news station so he focused on this instead. A pretty blonde newscaster reporting on a multi-millionaire's palatial home.

Ma-Ti was unsure of the practicality of having a ten-pin bowling lane hidden behind a shoe closet, but then again, it was really none of Ma-Ti's business. Sometimes the divide between the rich and the poor was startling — especially in their line of work.

"Coffees are ready, darlin'."

Distracted from his musings, Ma-Ti thanked the waitress and gathered the drinks in his arms. He paused, glancing again at the television as a random symbol appeared.

A double figure eight symbol flashed on the screen, lying in a horizontal and vertical design, overlapped in the centre. Bottom section coloured. Three small dots at the base.

Ma-Ti's mouth dropped open with recognition.

_Strange symbol wreaking havoc with servers across the United States._

_Symbol cropping up all over the internet._

_Thought to be responsible for the breach of interpol servers in the United Kingdom._

_Credible threat to national security._

_The nation's top analysts were investigating._

Ma-Ti stared hard at the television. SAIP had obviously become international news now, its existence no longer hidden away by the powers that be.

But SAIP's influence had always been on the cards, so to speak. MAL was supposedly still operational, so they had avoided the future that was originally intended.

Their new path was all the more uncertain however, but at least it wouldn't result in Linka's death or the fall of civilisation.

But still, it was food for thought.

"Dude, you fall asleep?"

An impatient Brooklyn drawl sounded behind him. Wheeler grabbed the travel mug from Ma-Ti's over-crowded hands. "Need my coffee fix."

"Sorry," Ma-Ti explained, heading for the door and frowning in confusion as Wheeler headed for the counter. "Got a little… what are you doing?"

"Ball and chain wants a muffin," Wheeler replied, reaching for his wallet and waving the waitress down. He placed his order and leaned against the counter, flashing a pearly-white grin. "Blueberry."

"Getting one for yourself?"

"Why?"

Ma-Ti smirked. "Because we all know it will be half eaten by the time you get back to —"

"Aw, c'mon." Wheeler waved away his concerns with his trademark confidence. "You have so little faith in me, man."

They collected the muffin and headed for the door. Ma-Ti gave the truck driver a worried glance on the way out. Bloodshot, heavily-lidded eyes, pale skin and under the influence of something, the man clutched blindly at the sugar packets, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger until the granules began to slip out.

The man glared at Ma-Ti as he passed, as if aware of being under close scrutiny.

_Flick._

They headed towards the vehicles. Ma-Ti glanced back worriedly, shaking himself slightly. The carpark was dark, barely illuminated by the moon and the lights inside the diner.

"Good muffin."

Ma-Ti suppressed a laugh as Wheeler took a second bite.

"You are a glutton for punishment."

"Nah, man," he replied with a mouth full of food. "I'm just a glutton."

"Here," Ma-Ti said, grabbing Wheeler's arm and pulling him away. They verged off, heading towards a beat-up looking truck parked along a grassy verge. "Do me a favor?"

"Depends on what you —"

"Fry the engine."

"Huh?" Wheeler froze for a moment, probably doubting he'd heard Ma-Ti correctly. "Did you just —"

"Fry the engine," he repeated, gesturing towards the truck. "He has countless convictions for dangerous driving. It is about to get worse. Don't let him leave here."

After a moment's hesitation, Wheeler shrugged. He ducked around the engine manifold, aiming between the grates with a look of concentration on his face. A faint red glow indicated that the job was well and truly at hand.

It only took a minute. Wheeler emerged, scratching his head and glancing at the damage no doubt inflicted beneath the manifold.

"Done."

"Thank you."

"If I get done for property damage, I'm blamin' you."

Wheeler took another bite and powered ahead, climbing into the drivers seat of the waiting SUV and passing the paper bag to Linka beside him. Ma-Ti climbed into the back, settling next to Gi and passing out the drinks.

"You took ages," Gi said.

Kwame took his coffee eagerly. "We were about to send out a search —"

"Did you eat my muffin?" Linka's tone was accusing. She stared incredulously at Wheeler, looking pissed off. "Yankee, I —"

"I took a bite, babe."

"Just how do you define a bite, Yankee?"

"It's the ability to sink one's teeth into —"

"You have left me crumbs!"

"There's enough for a mouthful, there," he said, flashing that cheeky grin again as he started the engine, steering the car out of the lot and back onto the highway. "I'm not a complete —"

"Moron?" Gi finished for him. She rolled her eyes, stretching and resting her head on Ma-Ti's shoulder. "Asshole?"

"Glutton for punishment?" Ma-Ti added, reminding Wheeler of their earlier conversation. "I warned you that —"

"God, it's the food police," Wheeler muttered. "Guy can't even —"

"You ate my muffin!" Linka exclaimed, laughing. She shook her head, crossing her arms and settling her gaze on the dark road ahead. "I was looking forward to that!"

"Was good too," he said, watching Linka scoop the remains out of the waxed paper base. "See, just creates all the more anticipation for the next —"

"I will get my own at the next —"

"I'll sink my teeth into that one too, toots."

She scoffed, crossing her ams indignantly. "Do not think for a second that you are 'sinking your teeth' into anything tonight."

"Aw, that's not —"

"Ahhhh," Kwame said with a groan. "Too much information."

"I liked it better when you two were fighting  _outside_  of a relationship," Gi added.

"Better fighting when you're in one," Wheeler said, turning briefly to grin at Gi. He waggled his eyebrows. "Make-up sex is da bomb."

"Oh God, Wheeler," Ma-Ti laughed as he watched his friend earn a playful slap to the side of the head.

"Sorry, cutie." The American chuckled, reaching out and settling his hand on the back of Linka's neck, squeezing gently. "I owe you one."

Linka settled back, resting her hand on his thigh and Ma-Ti could see the gentle smile playing on her lips.

"Mmm hmm."

* * *

**Nine Months Later**

Oil spills were Kwame's least favourite Eco-Emergency. Despite the safety precautions, despite the strict embargoes and internationally-recognised safeguards, they still occurred at a dreadfully regular pace.

He toiled for another hour, covered in thick, black, choking  _goop_. He could almost feel it seeping into his pores, polluting his bloodstream almost as much as the marine life suffering along the shoreline.

"We need to stop meeting like this."

"Sorry?"

Kwame straightened, looking around in surprise for the owner of the voice. A tall women stood behind him, wearing a plastic sun visor and a bulky white waterproof outfit. She grinned apologetically, waving a blackened glove in greeting.

"Us," she explained, peeling off the gloves and smiling at him. Chestnut skin and dark, curly hair tied into a pony tail that trailed to the base of her spine. Heart-shaped face and full lips. "It's just a pity we have to keep meeting under these circumstances."

"Oh," he replied, because nothing better was coming to mind. He swallowed, heart thumping faster in his chest. "Yes. True."

He recognised her by sight only, knowing her to be part of an international clean-up team funded by an eccentric philanthropist, whose seemingly innocent motives were driven more by his need for public adoration than an interest in the environment. But still, the funding provided the transportation, the manpower and the equipment, so who was he to judge.

He'd met her a few times before, yet her name alluded him.

"Exxon sure have a lot to answer for, don't they?"

"Yes," he replied bitterly. "I am sure their expensive lawyers will once again make the charges disappear."

"It's like juvenile detention," she remarked, eyeing the devastation. "Slap on the wrist and a ' _don't do it again,_ '.

"Tell that to the wildlife," he said. Several carcasses lay along the shore line; otters, herons and dead fish mostly. Gi was up ahead, watering down the live animals they had managed to save.

"How are you, Kwame," she said warmly; her green eyes meeting his. She was extremely attractive — enough to recall several conversations over the past year at various sites (and a few knowing elbows to the ribs from Wheeler) but he still couldn't draw forth her damn name.

"Good. Well, apart from… you know," he said, gesturing around helplessly. He was a little lost for words, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. It wasn't a condition he found himself in that often. "The oil is… bad."

"Uh huh," she replied, and Kwame gave himself an almighty subconscious forehead slap; aware that he sounded like a complete fool. "Nothing out of the ordinary for us."

"Not much else that can be done, now. We are done for the day, but I am sure you will be onto the next —"

"Our contract runs out at the end of the year," she said. "Doubt it'll get picked up again."

"He will not renew —"

"No," she said, unaware of the way Kwame was peering at her with unabashed interest. "He's found a new cause. Couple of young kids developing large-scale, low cost collapsible tents. Refugee applications, that sort of thing."

"That's a shame," Kwame mused, before thinking better of it. "I mean, the lack of funding for you, not the —"

"I know," she laughed. "It's a great cause. We've already started applying for grants."

Kwame scratched his face, forgetting for a moment that his hands were covered in slime. Knowing he'd streaked oil across most of his face, he gave up trying to act cool and detached.

"I cannot recall your name," he said with an embarrassed laugh. "I am so sorry, I —"

"It's Asha," she said, laughing with him. "With all the people you meet in your line of work, I can understand if —"

"Do you want to get a cup of coffee?" he blurted out, not meaning to interrupt but wanting to get it out before he lost his nerve. "I mean, after this is —"

"Sure."

He gave her a radiant smile, delighted that she'd said yes. "How should we —"

"I can give you my phone number —"

"Hang on." Kwame attempted to retrieve his cell phone and realised it was buried beneath the god-forsaken plastic onesie he was wearing. "Oh, for goodness sake —"

She laughed. "It's not meant to be this hard, is it?"

Kwame shook his head, removing his own gloves and attempting to wipe the oil from his cheeks and brow. "Where are you staying?"

"Holiday Inn. It's a little out of town, but —"

"Pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds great." She nodded with a shy smile, suddenly seeming as self conscious as he was. "I'll see you then?"

"Count on it."

She nodded again, giving him a small wave as she headed back down the shore towards her colleagues. Lost in thought, Kwame headed back down the beach with a slight spring in his step.

* * *

**Twelve Months Later**

Flicking his cigarette onto the street, Bleak stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked along the footpath, tailing the group of girls at a distance.

His new career path didn't pay as well as the old one, but it granted him anonymity and he could pick and choose the work he wanted.

Corporate companies, conglomerates, rich housewives. Didn't matter where the money came from, so long as he was paid. Last week, it had been a cheating husband. Off fucking his personal secretary at a 'business trip' while his wife held down the fort with their two young children.

Trust fund wannabes, the pair of them. She'd paid well though, and the resulting monumental dummy-spit had been worth it.

She'd reached atomic bomb proportions by the time he'd presented her with the evidence.

Poor bastard had no idea what was about to hit him.

Mafia. Rival bikie gangs and accusations of stolen drugs. Investigating insurance claims was another branch that kept him busy. Usually investigation work that needed to be kept strictly off the books.

He'd built up a reputation now. People knew now to ask for 'Mr Black', a conscious effort to rebrand himself. Plunder was just a distant blip in his otherwise new, eventful life.

The girls turned the corner and he followed, walking casually along as they entered a cafe. Their school backpacks were heavy and cumbersome, but looked right at home amongst the jean and sweatshirt-clad bodies they were attached to.

They entered the same cafe he knew they would, destined to order the same shakes and fries he also knew they would.

Routine could be a blessing or a hindrance.

They settled into a booth and Bleak strode past them, taking a seat at the empty counter. He ordered a coffee, ignoring the shrieks of laughter coming from the high-school girls. Perusing the menu, he was undecided on what to eat. A body dropped into the stool beside him; a menu clutched tightly within her hand.

Long, brown hair and a wide face lightly dusted with freckles, the girl sighed, drumming her fingers on the counter and waiting for the waitress to approach.

Peals of laughter sounded again, and Bleak winced. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Jesus," he muttered, giving them a sour look.

The girl glanced at him but said nothing. The waitress bustled over and she placed her order on behalf of her friends.

The scent of juicy fruit. The gum popped and squelched between her teeth as she glanced again at Bleak. He watched her with unabashed interest.

"What?" she remarked, eyes narrowed with distrust. "Got a problem?

"Chewin' louder than a fuckin' camel."

Her eyes widened, obviously unaccustomed to elders swearing at her. Nonetheless, she snapped her lips louder. "That better?"

"No."

She shrugged, handing her cash over to the waitress. "Got a problem, you're free to leave."

"Just ordered my coffee."

"I can breathe louder it you want, too," she said. "Make fart noises with my armpit."

"How old are you?"

She shrunk back warily. "Not old enough, honey."

He grinned at that, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. "Just curious."

"Curious about what?"

"Nothin'."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm seventeen."

"Fair enough."

She retrieved her change from the waitress, giving him a once-over. "Not a serial killer or nothin', are you?"

"What makes you think think that?"

"Just a vibe I'm gettin'." She popped her change back into her purse, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "How do I know you're not Charles Manson?"

"Charles Manson didn't technically kill anyone," he pointed out, taking another sip of his coffee. "So your whole point is redundant."

"Man, you're weird."

With that, she headed back to her friends without a second glance. He sat quietly for fifteen minutes or so, unable to help listening in to the girls prattle on about boys and clothes and other completely banal topics of conversation.

They eventually ran out of things to talk about. Rising to their feet, the girls filed out of the booth and the brown haired girl slowed, grabbing her bag and still eyeing Bleak warily.

"Grace! Move your ass!"

She jolted, hurrying to catch up and they disappeared outside, striding confidently past the front windows.

Bleak smirked, ordering a slice of apple pie and leaning back.

He had time. He wasn't on the clock.

Call it personal curiosity.

This was a one-off job, after all.

* * *

**Two Years Later**

"Move it or lose it."

Linka shifted her shapely legs, allowing Gi to take a seat beside her. A black and white movie was playing, something Gi had no hope of recognising but she settled down to watch it anyway.

Hope Island was a much-welcomed stop. A few days of rest and relaxation before they were on the move again. Gi hadn't realised how much she had missed the place until they'd landed yesterday.

"It is good to be home," Linka murmured. Her lilting voice was quieter than usual. She seemed tired, but they were all pretty exhausted these days. "I have missed it."

"Forgot what the furniture looked like," Gi commented drily. She pointed towards the Bali-inspired shutters. "Have they always been there?"

"Who knows." Linka tossed an arm across her face, settling down against the pillows and stretching her legs across Gi's lap.

"Comfortable?"

Linka wriggled her toes. "Very."

"Where's your other half tonight?"

"He and Ma-Ti went swimming, I think." She yawned, curling up on her side. "Somewhere on the south side."

"Kwame's out with Asha, no doubt."

"Hmm," came Linka's sleepy reply. "They seem to be getting serious."

"They're cute together," Gi offered. "She's lovely."

"How is everything with you and —"

"Don't know," she replied, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling fan whirring quietly above them. She shrugged. "Hasn't been returning my messages."

"Oh," Linka replied somewhat awkwardly, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "I am sorry, I did not mean to —"

"Wasn't really that into him anyway. I'm not worried," she said loftily, watching Linka flop back down onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. "Tired?"

" _Da_."

Gi smirked. "That rock on your finger weighing you down?"

" _Oy_ ," she said with a laugh, holding the ring out and twisting the diamond around her finger. "It is too big."

"That complaint get brought up in the bedroom, too?" Gi asked, snickering as a cushion impacted with the side of her head. Gi shrieked, tossing it back.

"Gi!"

"Just sayin'," she laughed. "Still can't keep his hands off you."

" _Da._ " Linka stretched again, grinning. She nudged Gi gently with her foot. "There are no complaints from me in that department."

"Yeah."

Gi smiled at her friend, so thrilled with the way Linka's life had panned out. All of the changes were overwhelmingly positive. Linka was glowing. She seemed softer, even more feminine and lovely these days. Relaxed and carefree, no longer 'sweating the small stuff'. She seemed to have a new outlook on life.

Although being young and in love tended to do that.

Or so she'd heard.

"Cheer me up," Gi said, throwing her arm over her face in an overly dramatic fashion. "Help me forget my woes."

"We have a few days to ourselves," Linka offered, yawning again. "That is good."

"Yep."

"Holidays are coming up. Christmas and New Year."

"Party, party," Gi muttered. "Remember last year?"

Linka winced at the memory. "I remember spending New Years Day vomiting into the toilet bowl."

"Stock up on more wine," Gi muttered; more to herself than to Linka. "We goin' red or white for this holiday festive season?"

"Neither." Linka smiled gently, pushing herself into a sitting position. Her hair spilled prettily about her shoulders as she crossed her legs underneath her, reaching for the remote. "I will need to cut back this year." 

"Early New Year's resolution?" Gi teased. "Or would vodka work just as —"

Linka shook her head but remained quiet, a knowing smile playing upon her lips.

"Uh…" Gi faltered, still processing that last statement. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. "Care to clarify that?"

"Do I need to?" Linka quirked an eyebrow, passing a hand over her seemingly flat stomach.

Gi stared back, a delighted grin slowly spreading across her face. Shuffling forward, she placed her hand on top of Linka's — an intimate gesture of friendship, affection and solidarity.

Linka was right.

No further clarification was needed, after all.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who have read and offered their support in the form of reviews and kudos. This was a labor of love for me. It took twelve months to write and I'm immensely proud of it. Particular thanks goes to OzQueen who was my beta reader for the vast majority of this fic. 
> 
> I have decided to branch out into other fandoms, as CP is quite restrictive in terms of audience. I have a story bubbling away in my head for any Reylo fans out there. I'll post it as soon as it is finished :-)


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